Street Fighter: Soul of the Jaguar
by Dilasc
Summary: The first Street Fighter Tournament, told by the fighters! It's Sagat's tournament, with more plot than EVER, told from the first person of the warriors involved.
1. I’m More Than Your Shadow: Adon

Hello folks. It's me again! Are we all enjoying World Strung by Fate? No? Well, so be it. Makes sense anyways. What's this? This is the story of the first SF tourney, hosted by none other than the one eyed god of Muay Thai, but it's now retuned, and renovated… my way!Enjoy Birdie gone white, watch as Adon's attitude gets the better of him, and what the heck is Rose doing here? It's the story where Ryu makes number one… but it's not about Ryu much at all! Best part is, it's first person! So enjoy the workings of the minds of Adon, Rose, Sagat, Birdie, Genand a few others, as the adventure is told… WITH PLOTLINE! Just be warned that if you're reading this, World Strung by Fate goes along with this, somewhat. This is SF1, and maybe even further than that. This may not sound like it'll be long, but when the situation is that each day is told and retold by the people who matter, then it's another epic in the works, and it fits canon as best I can.

Little fact: June 14, I must undergo an operation. I'll be gone for about two to four days, no way to write. On the bright side, I won't be going anywhere for a while, so I'll grab a snick… oops, wrong commercial. Uh, because I won't be going anywhere, I have ample time to write. Yay!

NOW, I bring you: Street Fighter: Soul of the Jaguar

**Chapter 1 - I'm More Than Your Shadow (Adon)**

If you were to ask me to say the first word that pops to my mind, it would have to be 'Muay.' After all, you only asked me to say the first word, stupid! Regardless, that probably doesn't tell you very much about who I am. I'm Adon, and I absolutely love Muay Thai! That's right, I'm Adon, the best Muay Thai warrior you'll ever meet! Don't be fooled by that giant, one eyed slob, Sagat. He was nothing but my teacher, and that's all he is to me. I'm more than your shadow, Sagat! You'll see soon enough! You'll ALL see that soon. This tournament will seal your fate, you one eyed freak!

Yea, so let me explain. According to public knowledge, Sagat is the God and Emperor of Muay Thai. He is the most powerful Muay Thai warrior there is, and I'm his best student. What people don't know is that I am supreme, compared to that rat bastard! I do everything I can to get the damn crowd to listen to listen to me. To let Thailand know that I am a Muay Thai legend! I even adjusted my goddamned style of fighting for crying out loud! Yet, they don't care about me! People adore Sagat because he can use his energy to make small beams that are basically a punch or kick that you shoot. In short, a projectile of energy.

If these idiotic saps are impressed by flashy displays, I got those too. Yet I'M ignored! JERKS! All of them! They don't matter now! This tournament will be starting soon enough. It's beginning today as a matter of fact, but I don't need to rush anything. I've got my spot reserved with a byline from Sagat's request. If I beat whatever loser remains undefeated, I get to show Sagat who truly is the God of Muay Thai! If he loves his title so much, he can keep Emperor, I suppose. I don't know what the heck they really mean, and I've studied Muay Thai up and down, and five times more thoroughly than Sagat ever has, but I know for a damned fact that God is ten times better than Emperor. I can be like that one god by those… uh, whatever culture. Hmm, what was his name again? Right… Doctor Zeus! I can be a deity, and a legend in the Muay Thai world. Yet, perhaps, I'll get myself a good fight before I take Sagat's title from him in front of perhaps millions of spectators. It will be the most humiliating moment of that one eyed loser's life!

I'm the best there is, from my stylish red hair, that flattens at the top, to my bulging muscles, I'm as good looking as they can get, and my voice… can't get any better than me. I don't know why some laugh at it, but those people usually stop when I make them bleed with a few powerful elbow strikes. Just as well. Soon, the whole world will know how great I am, and know that I'm not Sagat's shadow!

Well, my speaking of the bastard and whaddya know, in he walks. His stature is tall, and his muscles are huge. Still, the bigger he is, the easier it is to strike him. I don't care if he stands a foot and a half taller than me, I'll kill him just as easily, but now is not the time.

His glance falls upon me, a glance from his lone eye, the other one gouged out years ago by another Muay Thai warrior named Go. Go was from Hong Kong, of all places, and he paid for that with his life. Whether the gouging was an accident or not, I don't know, nor do I care. Sagat will tear his other eye out when I'm done with him. He wouldn't want to bear to see the pain of his defeat.

Sagat used to have hair too… purplish hair… well, a light purple anyways, but now he's as bald as can be. He addresses me, "Adon." his tone is neutral. This is the man who I called my teacher, and yet he's never shared his glory and fame! I USED to respect him.

I decide to reply to him. It probably has to do with the tournament anyways. "Yea, what do you want?" My tone is snippy with him as I sit in my room, on my couch. This is the good life, that's for sure, but yet I'm still a nobody in the public eye! They'll know how important I am someday!

Sagat pays my bitter tone no mind. It's in his best interest for him not to, believe me. "I thought you might want to see what kind of competition we may face. I believe all the competitors have arrived."

I snort rudely at my bald teacher. "You waste my time with that? I can handle ANYONE who comes my way!" I frown as his expression changes from neutral disappointed. "Don't be overconfident, Adon." he tell me, as though he has any authority over me other than Muay Thai! Demeaning jerk that he is, he will be begging to die soon enough!

In spite of my distaste for him, I spark an argument out of sheer boredom, "Yea, whatever. When I have the crowd on MY side, I won't need to rely on my own ego." I grin viciously at him, mocking him.

"I see some things don't change." Sagat replied, still distraught by my attitude. "You must realize that the crowd means nothing! If you were as true to Muay Thai as you think you were, you wouldn't be obsessed with power and fame." He explains to me. In other words, Sagat is just wasting his time. "Muay Thai is not meant for everyone. It is brutal, and fierce, yet you have proven to overcome the odds, Adon. Does that not make you proud of yourself?"

What the hell is wrong with him? Is he that stupid? "I AM proud of myself!" I hiss angrily. The bandages wrapped around my fists are a pride of Muay Thai, as they show how serious I am as I clench my right fist in front of my face as I talk. "It's that nobody else IS. Then again, I guess YOU are not proud of yourself, 'master'." I continue, caustically addressing the man who helped me to perfect my Muay Thai.

Truth be known, could probably destroy me, and if you EVER tell ANYONE that I said that, I will destroy you, and make you BEG for death, while leaving you to slowly, and PAINFULLY slip into the afterlife.

Sagat's lone eye strays from my stern, cold gaze to the ground, and I grin, licking my lips in enjoyment. He sighs, "I… I guess you're correct, Adon." Yea, he thinks he's… wait, is he agreeing with me? I don't trust him! It's gotta be a trickof some kind! "Just hurry up. You're expected to be present…" he pauses, walking out of my room, his lone eye gazing back for a second. "Otherwise, you'll be disqualified." He grins lightly as he says that, his lone eye focused on me, piercingly.

I don't want to be kicked out. I CAN'T be, I just can't… can I? I'm supposed to be Sagat's fallback, so to speak. Would he really… NO! I'm not going to take any chances! I'm going to show up, just in case. Maybe the crowd will fall in love with my power, and I can instill fear in my opponents. That's always fun! I can be an intimidating, terrifying prick when I want to be. Fear can be an important part of taking control of the fight, after all. So, it's not that I have ever needed to rely on fear, but fear is powerful.

So I guess I have no choice but to follow Sagat. Therefore, I do exactly that. I follow my 'superior,' and when we arrive, the sight is actually more impressive than it looks. Fighters of all shapes, sizes, and ages disgrace my eyes, but I glance about them anyway.

With a grin, and a run of my hand through my red hair, I glance carefully at each warrior. Most look weak, and scrawny. A few look worthy of an actual effort, but I still don't give a rat's ass about any of them. None of them are man enough to beat me! Whether you're a tall man with a Mohawk, or a woman with purple hair… wait a second! I look again to make sure I'm not just delirious, but yes, from where I'm gazing down at the warriors who have gathered, one of them is indeed a woman… and a very nice looking woman at that, I must say. I don't know why I'm staring though, but look at those hips. Gah! Goddamn it Adon! Get ahiold of yourself, man! Stop staring at that lady in high heeled shoes. Wait, high heels? Is she really here to fight? Hah! That's a laugh.

Sagat notices me as I stare down at the contestants. He laughs lightly, "You are wise to assess your opposition, Adon," a grin plasters his face, though I barely notice it at all, as I heed him no mind. "Still, I don't think you'll do too well if your eyes get caught between that woman's chest."

I glance at the one eyed giant, my cheeks are slightly reddened by his words. I HATE being humiliated like this! I grit my teeth, agitated. "What… you…" I can't find the words to yell at him as I tremble nervously.

"Relax, Adon." the Muay Thai Emperor and God states with his bandage covered right hand held in front of him as though to stay stop. "It's no big deal. You don't think you're the only one whose eyes have gauged assets of the other gender in battle. In my case, however, that never happened." he grins in a rather amiable manner, "After all, to have eyes roam, you need to have both eyes." Oh great! Sagat is trying to be a comedian, and he sucks at it, big time! Maybe he should give up on Muay Thai and try to write comedy. All that I'd need to do would be to give him a rather generic name that those rich bitch countries use… I think Bob is one. Yea, that's the ticket, Bob! He'll show them what an embarrassment to humanity he is as he tries to be funny on television. Bob Sagat… I like the sound of that, very much.

Sagat continues, and his loud, commanding voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "I've done worse than look though. Let's just say that while I'm striking with my elbows and shins, my hands enjoy physical contact with more than just these bandages." He's smiling smugly, and bursts out into a hearty, friendly laugh. Sagat, you dog, you! I find myself laughing as well. He earned my laughter this time. I don't laugh very often, unless it's triumph, and malevolence at the victory on the battlefield, or the intimidation before the fight. Other than that, I'm not one to have a friendly laugh, for there's far too much on my mind. I'm far too important to have my time wasted with trivialities.

"You were joking, right?" I asked him, "I mean, as you attack, you're grabbing at the same time? I don't believe THAT much. I mean, seriously."

Sagat's grin fades slightly as his shifts about, "Well, okay. So I don't grab grope and punch at the same time." He laughs, still in the pleasantness of life. "You caught me there." It's about five minutes of the rare bond of friendship that Sagat and I share. To be honest, I really DO hate the man, but sometimes he can make a good joke, though it's a rare occurrence.

It was time to meet the competition, and oh man! I'm eager to strike fear into the hearts of many, and kick the ass of whoever the unfortunate loser who has to fight ME. Ha! They'll learn that I'm more than the mere shadow of you, Sagat. They'll all see, believe me. I will take Sagat's title with the whole world witnessing the event as it unfolds a legend of Muay Thai.

At this, Sagat and I go to greet the 'guests.' Not that I give a rat's ass about these people, but I'll do what I have to. Holy crap! There's so many kinds of fighting styles out there, apparently. It doesn't matter though, for they're all weaklings to the power of Muay Thai, and of course to me, Adon, the greatest Muay Thai warrior to EVER exist, and don't believe otherwise! Why the hell do people think I have an ego problem anyway? I'm only stating facts, right? Right! RIGHT! Aren't I?

Anyway, Sagat addressed the… thirty-two contestants. Thirty-two sounds about right, because I think it's divisible by squares of the number two. Wow, thirty-two is a nerdy number, I guess. I, however, don't give a rats behind about THEM, only about ME. Hah!

Sagat starts to ramble on about procedures, and all of that garbage. How everyone gets a hotel room, and how orders and matches and organization leads to the boredom of existence. No, there's not going to be any fights today, unfortunately. Maybe there's some semblance of intelimagence in this room, ya know, smart, perfect people, like me! Oh wait, there ARE no perfect people like me, because I'm the only one. Ha, well screw that plan, time to scare the crap out of these jerks, I guess!

As I take a step into the room, a menacingly sinister grin on my face, I don't even reach my first victim of fear… some weird, old man in a purple potato bag robe. Before I can even start, I feel a light, and soothingly soft hand tap my shoulder. It snaps my attention, and even startles me. I turn to find… that girl again. The one with purple hair and high heeled shoes. She sure looks like a preppy bitch, that's for sure. If she's here to feel my muscles however, she's welcome to it. The Adon magic is working at last!

"Adon…" she said in a calmly indifferent, yet very feminine, tone of voice. She knows my name too! This has to be a dream, or maybe she's a Muay Thai warrior. No, she couldn't be a Muay Thai warrior, or she'd be dressed in the same kind of garb that I'm in. Then again, since she's quite a woman, I almost wish that were the case.

Likewise, due to her gender, I decide to acknowledge her with some semblance of good mannerism. With an audible groan, I speak. "What do you want, woman?" I reply, irritated. As I said, I'd be kinder to her, and an irate tone is rather kind for me. I don't like people very much, the waste my precious oxygen, and stink up MY existence with their inferiority.

Her gaze is stern, and her purple eyes show disdain. Yet, at the same time, I sense this strong aura from the woman, and I don't exactly like it. I wonder if she's one of those witches they talk about existing in Europe and America. It probably explains the leather, since nobody could cast a spell in heavy clothes, or not very well. Furthermore, I hear witches dance around naked performing ritual sacrifices. Man, that Dr. Zeus sure sounds like a crappy doctor!

She speaks again, and I have to wonder if this woman's ever been laid. What? She sounds so serious about everything, as though there's something sticking up her rear end. Speaking about that, it seems nice and shapely. Never forget that Adon knows a good looking body when he sees one. "Adon?" She says, trying to get my attention. Did I mention that her hand still is on my shoulder? "Are you listening to me? I have information you may wish to know about your destiny," she states, and I can tell she's pausing briefly for drama as her purple eyes narrow their gaze, "Perhaps, about how you may become the god of Muay Thai…" NOW she has my attention, and I give a quick nod, though my vicious grin and facial expression of a crazy madman remains, "Meet me in my room later. I have some important things to discuss with you."

Well, glad that's ov… WHOA! Hold everything. Did she say she wanted me to meet her in her room… and tell me how I'm going to become the god of Muay Thai! I'm starting to like this woman, whoever she is. "What's your name, woman?" I ask her, figuring I'll at least know that much, considering that she is smarterer than most people. After all, she's addressing ME as the God of Muay Thai, and I haven't even become God yet.

She doesn't answer my question, the snobby bitch! "I will tell you later, just meet me in room three forty-one. Come by at around nine o'clock." is all she says, and that's the end of her conversation. I'll say this much, she's weird, but if she knows who her betters are, which means me, of course, then she'll be a well rewarded, loyal subject, who will be begging to bask in my glory or face death for not getting said glory! This said glory is of course me, Adon! Yea, I definitely have no ego problems, can't you tell?

Room three hundred forty-one… yea. Gah, something about this freaky, yet attractive woman is tugging at my thoughts, and I can't shake it off. Maybe if I focus on frightening the competition, my mind will focus on other things. Yea, that's the ticket!

Let's see where I can start. Maybe that old man. "Hah!" I stated, more than I did laugh. The old man in purple robes seemed to ignore me! It's as though he was in a meditative state of relaxation. He ignored all my jeering, in spite of my intimidating stare and frightening laugh. My laugh is SCARY! Be afraid, goddamn it! Bah! He's probably not even worth his Old Timer's disease… or was that called Alzheimer's? I don't know with all this high tech science crap!

Yea, I know you'll be goddamned bored out your mind, listening to me talk about how I did or didn't really manage to intimidate anyone. I did figure out a few who looked like I'd enjoy kicking their asses before taking Sagat's godhood away. There was this one boxer guy, who looked really strong and vicious. I'd swear he was looking at my ear, and I think he may have thought of eating it! There was also this tall guy with a Mohawk of blonde hair, and black sideburns. He looked a bit pale, but really strong, especially with those chains wrapped around his arm. If those chains are his weapon, then he'll be sorry, but atleast he'll be a good, challenging fight.

Ah, but another fighter I found is most certain to suffer, I'm assured of that! He's a black kick boxer! A KICK BOXER! He is a pitiful excuse of a warrior who has a fighting style that dares to call itself on par with Muay Thai! If he wins his way to me, his ability to eat solid foods may be just a fleeting memory, believe me! Anyway, the sun is starting to set, and I'm getting tired. I'd better save my energy for that purple haired psychic. No doubt she wants a piece of the soon to be god of Muay Thai. I grin widely at the thought. My teeth aren't exactly lined up perfectly, but what the hell do I care? My lower jaw is stretched forward slightly, but does it matter? Some have suggested corrective jaw surgery, but I digress. Time for my 'meeting' with the purple haired lady. She just can't deny my sexiness. Can you blame her?

All this thought of steamy, sexy fun has cleared my mind of Sagat… until… oh crap! I just thought of it again, and my Muay Thai legend. You'll see, Sagat. I'm not your Shadow, you'll see! You'll be begging to apologize when I'm through with you. You've stepped on my back for the last time!

Author's Note - Well, there ends Adon's chapter 1 for real now. Next will likely be Sagat's, Rose's, or maybe Birdie's. Just note that everyone will have fair first person time. Some will get more, namely Adon and Rose. If you're wondering, that IS the pairing in this disaster story. As I say though, love is fleeting, and it'll be fleeting enough that Rose and Adon can continue their canon lives unhindered by romance, trust me. Anyway, REVIEW! I write for you, the people!

Anyway, I'm sure you folks are wondering whomakes up the roster, no? Well, there are 34 guys, see. The32 contastants, plusAdon and Sagat. As we know, the9 other guys from SF1 are in (that includes Ryu. Kenis NOT in, because he is in the American Martial Artstourney,pwningCharlie). As well, we have seen Rose, Dee Jay, and maybe Dan will be in.As well, Retu will show up for Retsu,Retu name game conflicts. Other than that,well, most are justunknown. Maybe Zivah from World Strung by Fate for Krav Maga representing. Final Fighters cannot be in for the fact that Mad Gear is running amuck. It is not too important anyways. Anyway, more to be written soon. Well, when I get back from jaw surgery! Ugh!


	2. Lose an Eye, See the World: Sagat

Reviewers first.

Maynar Namiya - Yes, Sagat is the man. He's got such an interesting, deep, and conflicted personality. On the one hand, he is an honorable man most of the time, but when angered, fear the giant! A shame that few even realize that he had the brains to leave Shadaloo after he had to fight brainwashed Ryu.

Dasu - Best Adon ever? Wow, that's... not exactly a big accomplishment if you think about it. How many Adon writers do you know? Thanks, I'm the best of about ten people. Still, thanks for the compliment anyway, since I know you meant well. Poor Adon...

Iceangelmkx- Trust me, unloved characters are my baby, and they grow into such potential characters, where people can go 'Say, who's that? Adon, huh, I feel compelled to learn more. Sorry if my reviews seemed harsh, I meant no ill bearings at all, I just use too much poetic licence, let's call it that. Oh, and by the way, thanks for being the only one to even acknowledge the surgery aspect.

A/N: Howdie-o, sorry about the delay and much silence, but I've been conked out cold just last Tuesday when I had facial surgery. Now with my cheeks still swollen, very little control of my salivation, and lots of weariness, I return to write another chapter. Anyway, on with Chapter 1 through the perspective of Sagat's lonely, yet accurate eye.

Chapter 1 - Lose My Eye to See the World (Sagat)

If you were to take a mere glance my way, I'm sure you'd be terrified if I were your enemy, and hiding behind my massive frame that surpasses seven feet in height. I'm sure you think me some sort of villain with a black pirate's patch covering my right eye. To top it off, my muscular frame probably scares small children easily, mixed with my rigorous training in Muay Thai martial arts, one of the most deadly known arts in the world.

Heh, let me assure you, I'm not a very mean person. Perhaps I let my anger get the better of me, but I try to be an upstanding citizen to my people. Thailand, hopefully, can look up to me to inspire and keep them safe. Sagat is the Siamese word for protect, after all.

I hope this tournament isn't a rash decision on my part, but it probably is. I will today begin the ceremony for my Street Fighting tournament. Perhaps people worldwide will know the value of Muay Thai, and that I am proud to be an inspiration to all, young and old.

I'm sure you are wondering why I wear the eye patch by now. I'll tell you about it, but it brings on great guilt. When I was younger, I was challenged by a man from Hong Kong. He was a Muay Thai warrior, and his name was Go Hibiki. I'll admit he may have been quite the warrior, that is until, I lost my eye. I don't know whether it was on purpose or now, but my right eye was forcefully torn from it's socket, and I must say I hadn't made such a loud scream in years. In my rage from my ocular loss, I beat Go to within an inch of his life. He died shortly after, his body caving in on itself. I was a murderer, pure and simple. Had I less gall, I may have followed the ideals of the ancient Babylonian laws of Hammurabi, and taken out his eye instead, as the saying goes.

To be honest, the loss of that eye made me stronger. Since I had bad vision in the right eye, losing it allowed my focus of perfect vision to remain in my left. Had I known this sooner, I may have had something done about it, but I'm no scientist, so there's little to be stated on that matter.

You may see not a spec of hair on my body, and it's partly due to balding, but also due to shaving. The hair is just something more for the enemy to grasp, and I'm a big target. My hair is, or rather, was a light purple, which I believe is called lavender. I guess pink hair isn't the most intimidating thing in the world to see, is it? Regardless, I prefer my opponents at their best whenever possible.

Well now, all this talking has been quite the time taker. It's almost time to introduce the myself to my competition. Ah, but I should let my pupil, and perhaps Thailand's second best Muay Thai warrior, Adon, know that is about time to start.

I hesitate as I stand outside his room. I know he has been feeling tense about many things. They say it's a long drop from first to second, and Adon seems to be well aware. Don't think of him as anything like myself on the battlefield. While he may be my student, his technique is nothing like my own. I utilize the styling of Tiger Muay Thai, while Adon uses Jaguar Muay Thai instead. Adon makes it no secret that he wishes to take my place and step all over my skull about his acclamation of his title. He tells me all the time, in fact, but it hardly bothers me. If he beats me and takes my championship, then so be it. I think it'll be the best fight I'll ever have to handle, as my student takes my title through the hardest effort of his life. Suffice to say, I'm not too keen on giving up my title, but Adon might have the potential to claim it someday.

I must applaud his enthusiasm though, for he is very dedicated to Muay Thai. As I open the door though, the sight of Adon, nearly a foot and a half shorter than me, but still very muscular glares at me, it's a rather neutral glance, but I know he's going to want to tell me to go to hell.

"Adon." I speak, addressing my red haired, long chinned student.

He sneers at me, as his teeth tighten, "Yea, what do you want?" he grunts in an unfriendly manner.

With a deep breath, I pay his attitude no heed as my lone eye blinks while I continue, "I thought you might want to see what kind of competition we may face. I believe all the competitors have arrived." I wonder if he even cares, for you'll see it for yourself, but Adon is rather cocky, and has an ego that burns brighter than the sun.

"You waste my time with that?" he yells, almost losing his patience. "I can handle ANYONE who comes my way!" He proclaims with enough pride to successfully host a one man pride parade if he wanted to. I guess he didn't care at all, but I'm not surprised.

I'm in no mood to start an argument, but I'm still his teacher, in spite of an age difference less than a decade apart. "Don't be overconfident, Adon."

"Yea, whatever," he rudely replies as his Muay Thai bandaged hand bashes against the hard wood table beside him, splitting it in half. "When I have the crowd on MY side, I won't need to rely on my own ego."

"I see some things don't change." Wait, did I say that out loud? Hmm, I guess I did, so I might as well make the best of it."You must realize that the crowd means nothing! If you were as true to Muay Thai as you think you were, you wouldn't be obsessed with power and fame." I explain to him. In other words, I'm wasting my time, as he's heard this speech many times before. "Muay Thai is not meant for everyone. It is brutal, and fierce, yet you have proven to overcome the odds, Adon. Does that not make you proud of yourself?"

"I AM proud of myself!" he snaps at me as his right fist clenches in front of my face. I do not flinch though, as he wouldn't dare strike me here. "It's that nobody else IS." his cold, menacing glare softens slightly as he continues, "Then again, I guess you're not very proud of yourself, 'master'."

He knew that well. It may have made no sense to anyone listening in, especially with Adon's poor grammar, but I know what he means. I want to prove myself as the best there is with this tournament, there is no doubt about it. "Perhaps..." I pause, sighing, "You are right." I'm not afraid to agree with my pupil when he's correct. It's not that either of us are more or less experienced than the other. We're both from Thailand, a rather poor, backwards third world nation, and the third world corruption has effected both of our lives in vital ways.

For Adon, the boy grew up in a third world environment, growing up alone with his mother. I must say, Adon's mother is a rather beautiful, green haired woman. I believe it's one of those things called a MILF, but I digress.

I was more fortunate to grow up in more favorable settings of life. My problem was popularity amongst my peers. Aside from having uneven vision, I was actually rather short. It wasn't until I reached about fourteen years of age that I began to grow tall. It was also at around this time that I took to mastering Muay Thai, and I must say I mastered it within the year. Really, I learned rather fast. The limb motions and strikes were so easy to follow and utilize. Even with such a natural taking to Muay Thai, it is a brutal fighting style. It's brutal for both the utilizer and his opposition when Muay Thai has been mastered.

"Just hurry up." I say speak simply to my student as I exit his room, "You're expected to be present…" my eye glances back to him, a slight grin on my face. "Otherwise, you'll be disqualified." Not that I could, since Adon was my second to last in the tournament. In other words, whoever of the thirty-two warriors taking part in this competition wins his way to first will fight Adon. It basically means he has a byline to a free bronze trophy if he should lose. Whoever wins that fight gets to battle me for championship. Believe me when I say that I know Adon is pumped and ready for a chance to battle and humiliate me with defeat while stripping my title away from me.

He follows me, as we reach near the quaint, yet crowded room where many cultures fill the room with warriors of all shapes and backgrounds. I am impressed, and at the same time pleased, excited, and frightened. I am glad to test my might against warriors of other martial arts, and excited to get the chance to witness many thrilling battles by these warriors. It almost makes me sad that I must fight only the winner, but the way I see it from another perspective, I could very easily lose. I will admit that I am far from the invincible being. The empty right eye socket I cover up reminds me every day, and from it, I see the world.

I notice Adon, glancing up and down the competition like a child staring into a pet shop with elephants and tigers for sale, yet they're forced to live with parents too smart to think of making such a lavish purchase, with even more a money drain just to take care of the beast heavier nearly four times heavier than yourself, and the capability of killing you. Never underestimate the beast. My respect goes to any man or woman who can subdue a bear or an elephant with his bare hands. They could do any fighting moves they want, just no energy projectiles, and no weapons, regardless of how primitive. It takes a true man to kill an elephant barehanded. I wonder if I'll meet a person like that here today.

Ah, but Adon's eyes have paused somewhere, and judging by the fact that where his eyes gaze so intently seems to be female, I think I can figure out what he's thinking.

"You are wise to assess your opposition, Adon," I state sagely with a grin on my face, receiving an uninterested nod from my pupil, and grumble of 'shove off' "Still, I don't think you'll do too well if your eyes get caught between that woman's chest." I can't say I don't blame him though, enjoying one of life's simplest, yet most complex pleasures.

It takes him a second or two, but soon enough, Adon's eyes widened in shock, and his face took on a look of embarrassment and panic. "What... you..." Sometimes I enjoy authority and the humility it brings.

Hmm, I must admit though, Adon's taste in women is very similar to my own. As I look, I get a strange feeling that my eye might get stuck betwixt those nice curves. She is a bit eerie with purple hair, tied in a braid, and let to fall behind her head from there. Ah, I best not think on it too much. I have more important things to focus on than feeding the one eyed monster. Heh, I crack myself up sometimes.

"Relax Adon." I state, holding my hand in front of me to grab his elbow or knee if he dares to lash out at me. "It's no big deal. You don't think you're the only one whose eyes have gauged assets of the other gender in battle. In my case, however, that never happened." I never had the chance, due to my situation in life. With a chuckle, I finish it with a joke. "After all, to have eyes roam, you need to have both eyes."

Adon groans, glaring at me with . He probably wants to cave my mouth in just so I can't say any more stupid, corny jokes. I guess I can't exactly blame him, due to the fact that his sense of humor is far different than my own. "I've done worse than look though. Let's just say that while I'm striking with my elbows and shins, my hands enjoy physical contact with more than just these bandages."

Somehow, I doubt that my student believes me. "You were joking, right?" he asked after a few seconds delay, "I mean, as you attack, you're grabbing at the same time? I don't believe THAT much. I mean, seriously." He sure isn't a sharp one, but Adon comes through every once in a while, like right now. Adon was laughing, which is a good thing, for sure.

"Well, okay. So I don't grab grope and punch at the same time." I laugh, holding my hands out to shrug in guilt, "You caught me there." I laugh heartily at that, and savor a short moment of friendship between teacher and student, even if Adon's laugh sounds worse than a car alarm when it's hearty.

Regardless, it's about time I actually welcomed the thirty-two warriors, and explain what is going on. I'm sure they are as eager as I am to do battle.

Opening the door to the room where the warrior wait casts a sudden silence as all eyes fall upon me, or at least, almost everyone looks my way, and my single eye widens with a slight sense of stage fright. Talk about being put on the spot, and I'll now understand it. Regardless, as the saying goes, the show shall go on!

I make a short speech, and a boring one at that. I won't hurt your ears by making you listen to it. Not even a warrior deserves to hear a more boring and cliche speech like that. Regardless, an important fact you not know about the tournament yet is that the fighting starts tomorrow. It is getting late as is, and today is just a welcoming ceremony with even a complementary dinner just because. Sometimes, being the god of Muay Thai provides a monetary benefit. How does it work? I'm not sure, but I've never been a big fan of big cash, so I figure I'll put it to good use with a healthy meal to provide the competitors with plenty of useful carbohydrate energy.

I notice the purple haired woman talk to Adon, and shake my head in disappointment to he flaunts his lack of social grace so willingly. He's smiling widely though, after their brief talk, so I suppose that it didn't go TOO badly, I guess.

Personally, I'd like nothing more than to get some food in my stomach and then plop down for some shut eye, no pun intended. For real, it's going to be a long day tomorrow, and I'm not even fighting. Regardless, I will watch through my single eye. I lost an eye to see the world more clearly, and it is always spectacular to watch a good fight, I assure you.

A/N: There's everyone's favorite Muay Thai cyclops! Did I make Sagat seem a bit off? I think he is, but I'm not too sure. Well, regardless, review people. I assure you all that the next chapter, Birdie's, will be a whole lot sooner to arrive. Anyways, the pairing in this story is perhaps the STRANGEST you'll EVER SEE. It's Adon/Rose, and man is it going to be twisted. Two characters, opposite in every way, falling for each other, only to have it not work out in the end. Ah, the sweet taste of heartbreak! You'll see soon enough, and it's a long story, so don't fret.


	3. I'm Street Smart: Birdie

1As always, reviewers take the first slice of cake, pie, pizza, and stone statues (big yummy yum to stone statues!)

Maynar Namiya - Sagat is easy to write due to the great amount of canon he has. He's somewhat easy to trace, and he's really not a bad guy, he just needs anger management sometimes.

Lyrix of Azn Ethix - Sonic Boomers went to Bison camp? If Guile knew about Bison before Alpha 3, he would NOT have been so ready to apprehend Charlie in that game, and Guile's ending is the most canon ending of all. In any case, you are correct about Charlie not being at the tourney, but a Shadaloo POW camp? I somewhat doubt that much.

Bushinguy - Rose's POV will come soon enough. As for a story on Guy, I'm not too sure. Guy's personality seems a bit conflicting. Guy isn't exactly amongst my favorites. Though maybe a Sodom story would be fun, and likely comedic due to Sodom's wannabe samurai tactics. Still, that's be very iffy, and I doubt I'd write it, unfortunately. As for my thoughts on the Vega (claw) and Guy rivalry, I think Vega seems a bit too sane, to be honest, and his thoughts on Rose seem far to celibate. Yea, I know he lusts for Cammy mostly, but he's admires beauty in all forms.

If some of you are wondering, Rose has her hair in a ponytail during this tournament, mostly to help remain a bit less of a standout, and for later to be revealed plot purposes. Anyway, now I bring you Birdie's chapter, expect lots of British and street punk accentuation on many words. Get ready to see a tonne of apostrophes.

**Chapter 1 - I'm Bloody Street Smart** **(Birdie)**

Hey! Wut d'ya think yer doin' buggin' ol' Birdie? Ya actully wanna hear wut I gotta say, you does? Bloody hell... uh, I mean, a'right then chap. Jus' be aware that'cha signed yer own grave, you did. Now, where should I begin?

Well, first things first, the name's Birdie, and I'm the baddest villain out there, I am... well, I 'ope I am, anyway. Yea, so ya see my skin as white, but I assure ya, I'm one tough nigger! I'm jus' a bit sickly pale, but I won't let it stop me from roughin' up a few arsehole warriors.

Yea, I'm badass with my awesome Mohawk that I dyed blonde. They're all the rage on the streets back in Britain, but mine's da best, it is. Mine's gots a hole through it, and yet it stays firm and ain't gonna lose to no damn gravity. My 'air ain't really blonde, it's a dark brown, as ya can tell by my sideburns and mustache.

My chain is a truly useful item. Yea, so I 'ave a habit of licking the metal, I gots full control ova it, I do. Then again, I'll beatcha over the 'ead wit' it a few times and you'll learn ta appreciate my buddy!

So, all in all, I look pretty bad ass, don't I? If not, it don't matta', cuz' I can still rough you up and take away yer breathin' privileges if I so desire. Not that it matters, cuz when I'm in charge, I'll kick yer ass anyway.

Anyways, I'm 'ere in Thailand cuz I 'eard there's a big crime compny down 'ere called Shadaloo an' it sounds though its gotta be the big break I'm lookin' for. Eh, but first I'll 'dulge meself wit' a good ol' bunch of street fightin'. I 'eard that the master of this tournament, some guy named Sagat, is a Muay Thai warrior, and 'pparently, e's talla than me, and I'm seven feet tall, for all you wankers who don't know yer metric, that's a bit ova two meters tall! Yea, I'm bad ass, ya damn wanker, and don't you forget it! Anyway, Sagat's student is also sorta in charge... uh, I think his name was Don or somethin. It'll be fun to break a few teeth without he damn pigs threat'ning me with jail.

So anyway, I'm on my way there now. Yea, I'm bloody walkin from the airport, what of it? Damned wankers 'ere drive on the wrong side of the road, they do, and the climate 'ere is bloody hot. Much warmer than back 'ome in England. I almost feel bad for the lady walking ahead'a me. She ain't bad lookin, though the purple 'air in a long ponytail ain't somethin I sees everyday. Somethin bout her seems ta just freak me out, she does. I's nothing seen or heard, but in my mind, she jus' scares me, an' I dun git why.

Whoah, the purple haired lady's bout to fall if she steps inta that small hole. Heck, I dun wanna let a lady fall, specially when she's an attractive one! Heh, what can I say, the lovely ladies be always worth my time, they are. So with quick thinking I unhook the chain from round my arm, and I chuck it at 'er. As she's bout to trip over her 'igh 'eeled shoes, it latches round her waist, and I pull her back, and away from the small hole. Musta been a rabbit hole, but it looked a bit large for any bloody hare I knows of, but tha's what it looked like.

Anyways, the lovely lass stares at me as I yank my chain, yea, sounds funny, don't it? As I pull her towards me, all she does is stare. Bloody hell, this woman's 'sessed wit purple. Wha's she think she is, queen'a England? I bet a king'd love ta get 'is 'ands on a nice lookin' lady like this.

Bloody friggin 'ell, she's still jus' starin' at me, at like eye contact! Somethin's wrong with this lass. "Uh, yer welcome, ya know?" I say, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly.

Her eyes gaze still, an' her face is stern, as though I did somethin bad. Heh, well duh I does bad things. I'm Birdie, and I'm number one. I don't take shit from noone, and I outsmart my enemies. Yea, I don't gots college education, but I'm street smart, I gots the skills to survive by. "You are Birdie." she states very assured of her words bein correct, and bloody hell she's right!

"Yea, what up?" I respond with a slight grunt as she tugs the metal chain away from her waist and throws it back to me. She's strong for a seemingly frail appearance. Then again, I ain't stupid at all. I'm street smart, and I knows that womens can be just as strong as any guy, but she looks like she's ready for some fancy ball, though I do notice some leg muscle tone hidden b'neath them leather leggings, wahoo!

Her gaze and firm tone remains, I don't get women sometimes. "Stay away from Shadaloo. I tell you this for your own good." Yea, womens are strange... w-wait wha'd she say.

"Hah!" I laughs at 'er. She don't think to tell me what to does, do she? I dun do things jus ya gots a sexy face."Gimme a reason ta, a GOOD reason, I wants." I say with a grin, licking my lips, and winking as well. I stare at a lovely bosom ta emphasize me point, an' I can't 'elp but regret saying that already. Yea, so I don'ts like rape, I don't. It's wut led ta my illegam... illigit, uh, ya knows that word. Uh, I was born a bastard kid wit no legal dad, I was. Ain't no denyin it, that even I gots my soft spot, an it's not gonna stop me from bein the numba' one badguy round 'ere, or 'round anywhere.

Dourness seems ta not leave this woman. Bloody 'ell, this is one sturdy minded chick, tha's fo' sure! "It is for your own benefit that I am warning you Birdie." her glare becomes even more stern and demanding at that, and bloody hell, I think she pierced my soul she did. "You have no idea what you are getting into!"

"Yea, look luv, save it. Ya ain't changin my mind, ya dig? Just cuz yer a nice lookin chick with lovely knockers, you ain't changin my mind unless you take ya knickers off." I laugh lightly, bloody immature, even fa my usual self. I say without giving a rats arse bout what she gotta say ta me. Bah, womens, I don't understands them sometims, I don't.

She turns round, an walks off with a tad of a high an mighty 'tude as she sticks her nose sky-'igh. Bloody fuckin' 'ell, I DON'T undastand women at all! Not that I hate 'em. On the contrary, they're pretty good. I does hate childrens though, I do. 'Specially when they tries to sneak inta bars underaged and don't listen to the bloody bouncer. Yea, I used to be's a bouncer, but the bloody kids drived me mad. I gots fired when I roughed one punk up too badly.

Yea, so I mostly hate teens, of the male variety, who thinks they rules the world they do. Bloody morons need to learn to gets their 'eads outta da clouds, they do. Eh, so young girls who thinks they 'ot shit annoy me too, but 'eh, they mostly jus' followin guys. Really young kids ain't so bad, though I don'ts exactly think I'd says I'd include diapers and drool in my equation of kids. Damn tykes jus a bit too gross, even for me, an' I run my tongue over metal chains, r'gardless of wut the metal is. Bloody 'ell... well, ok, so maybe I am bloody addicted, I am, but it does keep my body with a 'ealthy supply of iron.

Ya rat bastard morons don't understand nothin'! So anyways, there ain't much else ta say 'bout my trek to the stadium. Bloody hell, the room's packed, mainly cuz it's a small room. There can't be more than forty blokes in 'ere, prolly less too. Well that's just brilliant, and a big bloke like me needs room, I do.

Where's that Sagat fella'? I hear 'e's talla than me, but I jus' don't see anyone else quite as tall as me. Bloody hell, I'm the tallest fighter 'ere! Well, so I thinks I am, 'til the guy I guess is Sagat makes 'imself known. Bloody friggin' HELL, e's 'uge! Well tha's not saying much, cuz he's only a few decimeters bigger than me, but still, e's ripped wit muscle, and he's a bloody pirate! I just 'ope he ain't afta me buried treasure!

One cheesy, cliched speech lata, I find everyone eyein' each otha and chattin. I too gotta keep my eyes peeled fa good people to mess up and knock teeth out. Havin' a British dental plan, I knows 'ow ta handles teeths good!

That bloody purple 'aired woman's 'ere, and she's talkin to that otha Muay Thai bloke. He's a runt fa height, but e's muscula. Not as muscular as myself... but e's strong. God! I wishes my skin wasn't so pale now. Bad timin' it was ta get sick, I say, eh chap?

Eh, I'll plays it cool. I can 'andle any of these blokes if I gotta. I'll outsmart em, and don't you's think I can't. You best not think I can't or I'll break yer neck! I'm street smart, I'll manage out there, and 'andle any smart ass. Cuz, I reiter... uh, I repeats it again, I'm street smart, I gots real knowledge to lives by, an not some stupid bookwork!

A/N: Ok, Rose chapter is next. Yes, it should be a very intriguing one due to Rose's peculiarity of character. It'll be a challenge, but I'm always looking for a challenge or a good fighting. Yes


	4. Do You Wish?: Rose

1Reviewers on the spotlight, as they should be. Sad to say, only one. Do the rest of you hate Birdie so much to avoid him? He's a really cool character if you try to understand him. Just because he's difficult to master in the game (though I find charge characters somewhat fun, and his Murderer Chain is a very nice move)

Bushinguy - Inspired? I'm shocked, and flattered at the same time. I'm eager to see how that'll turn out. And no, I don't hate Guy, I just can't click with him is all. Still, I say be careful about Vega's characterization and his lack of affinity with beauty. He feels almost too... loyal, to Bison.

Let's move on, shall we? It's time for Rose's chapter. Let the plot progress!

Chapter 1 - Do You Wish? (Rose)

Have you ever wondered what it'd be like to see the future? Ever wish you could use your mind to strengthen your powers and abilities? Do you wish you had all the answers to all of life's problems? Do you wish these things? To all these questions, I would have to answer 'no'. Power is a dangerous thing, corruptive and hypnotically destructive of mind, soul, and the lives of others. That... it is why I exist. To vanquish one such man.

This man is named M. Bison, and he is a dangerous man with powers far beyond his responsible handling. Alone, I wield the gift and curse that is Soul Power. I alone can seal him away, even if it kills me. I know what he is capable of, and that he wishes nothing but destruction of the entire planet, for I share a deep connection with him and know he plans to act soon.

Perhaps I should start by telling you a bit about myself. My name is Rose, and you'd probably call me mysterious. By telling you anything, I could risk my safety, and I cannot throw my life away if Bison does not fall with me as well.

You may think I am exotic, and attractive. Your words would likely be hollow compliments however, and I can tell you are about to say them, so save your breath and voice box some effort. As for why you'd call me exotic, it'd more of a royal visage. Yes, I do like the color violet quite a bit. It is the natural color of my wild and flowing hair and of my eyes. Yet, for now, my hair is tamed in a ponytail, to help hide my identity just a bit. My tarot cards are hazy on the outcome of the events to unfold, but one thing is clear, Bison is up to no good, and Shadaloo must be stopped.

I am not some unknown being from another planet, or something, rest assured. I was born in Genoa, Italy to common-folk parents. My psychic abilities were something I've had since birth, but were not exactly tame, until I met him... Bison. He took me in, to his base in Thailand, and taught me how to control my psychic abilities, and from what he said, the powers actually originate from my soul, believe it or not.

I was skeptical at first about that. After all, the soul is not a physical entity, so how could it possibly create something out of nothing? Yet, as I focused and learned to enter a clear state of mind and body, an almost meditative state, I was able to create sparks, empowered by my soul. Thus, I call these bursts of energy, Soul Sparks.

The more I lived under Bison's tutelage, and training, the more wary of his ideals and ways I became. At first, he seemed like just a nice man with a really big chin, but as I learned to harness my psyche, I could see into his mind somewhat, and found much darkness, and a strange hole of sorts in his soul. I don't understand what this small, hole was, or why I sensed it, but I knew, something was missing amongst the black soul he possessed.

It was fortunate when Bison asked me to put my powers to the test. He wanted me to kill an enemy. An old man from Mongolia named Chad. Truly, I was not an assassin, but he said I would not be allowed to return unless I succeed. I did not succeed, and never went back.

It was at the northern part of China, near the Mongolian borderline, that the exhaustion from the heat of the warm Chinese climate and long desert trek caused me to pass out. I thought my end would occur then and there. This wasn't to be the case however. It was fortunate that a wandering person found me and took me in. At the same time, I was shocked to find out just who had saved me.

My rescuer was the very man I was sent to kill. He was elderly indeed, and his warm smile surely couldn't have been the face of a bad person. He wasn't too tall, likely due to his age causing shrinkage, and his head was bald and hairless, except for the off-white goatee on his chin. You may not believe me when I say it, but he was infatuated with me, deeply so. He passionately yearned for me both physically and emotionally. Being that my experiences were limited, I actually complied at first, and I almost became addicted to him, and his love. Indeed, I had a brief carnal relationship with a man nearly four times older than me.

It was a few years under his housing, and tutelage that I was able to purify my soul powers of any taint of evil Bison may have attempted to influence me with, but Bison eventually found out where I was, and why I was there. Chad therefore decided that it was best for my safety if I were to leave for home, for Genoa, and try to live a normal life. There I learned that such relationships with men so old were very wrong. A taboo, if you will, and I came to despise his love, perhaps a bit too quickly, sporadically, and much too harshly. I don't really care. What happened was wrong! It should never have happened!

Now, for one with the ability to see omens, signs of the future to perhaps the end of time, and empathy with other minds, living a 'normal' life is rather difficult. Perhaps, I am losing your attention though. Shall I tell you more later? I assure you that my story gets more interesting with my life back in Italy, and how a Mafia man became infatuated with me, while I wish only to spit on his existence. A man named Antonio, a practitioner of karate, and perhaps the most powerful and underappreciated mobster of all time. Yet he isn't too rich himself, and he holds a rather low rank despite his skills and honed talent. Regardless, he is crude, womanizing, and doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself.

I was lucky to escape him and catch the flight to Thailand before he could catch up. That is where I am now. Thailand, where I will be competing in a fighting tournament. I am a capable warrior in spite of my appearance, and my soul power is an important source of my strength, and very being. Under control, it can be used to empower objects and make them sturdier than they are, so long as it is willed. Mostly small objects, such as the yellow shawl I wear around my neck. It is more than just a scarf, I assure you. You'll get to see what it can do when I fight.

Still, I have an objective that I have set for myself. Find out information about Bison, and his crime organization, Shadaloo. I know from my tarot cards that a few individuals who have had, or will have dealings with Bison are taking part in this tournament. Though Bison himself won't be here. My psychic search has concluded that four or five such persons will be taking part in this tournament, and maybe even more.

I will likely find out when I reach my destination. I will have a word with these people, and see if I can help convince them to take the right path. The right path which I've never been able to convince Bison to take, even after many warnings. Yes, we have met since my teachings years ago, but he has been far more hostile since nearly fifteen years ago. His words are more evil, and it appears he had finally revealed to me his true colors.

The next time I meet Bison, there will most likely be violent measures taken, and one of us might not survive. Yet, an omen haunts my mind when I think about Bison. I cannot tell if it is a message from the past or future, but it tugs at my mind. 'Two lives share the same soul.' I am not entirely sure what these prophetic words mean, but surely they must be important.

Bison takes up much of my thoughts due to his importance in my tarot readings and psychic predictions, but I suppose it'd be fitting to change the subject for a bit. The airport isn't too far from the place where the tournament will be held, so here I am walking to the tournament. Though I likely could have used an automotive transportation, I am more than capable of using my own two feet. Even if they appear to be in high heeled shoes, I have more mobility than you'd expect me to have in such footwear. These shoes actually can actually be powerful, especially if the opponent is struck by the stiletto.

My mind senses a nearby mind, and I believe I have found my first person of importance. This person's name is Birdie, and from what I've figured, he's very tall, black, and British. He is violent, but his mind seems a bit cunning, not what I'd expect for such a person as himself.

Yet, as I walk, I decide to try and ignore him for now. It'd be best if I were to confer with him at the tournament instead of out in the open for all ears to hear. Yet, sometimes things just don't go my way. I may be a psychic, and a fortune teller, but I cannot foresee everything. I certainly did not foresee that a metal chain would wrap around my waist and pull me away from a small hole that I was about to lose my balance at by stepping in it.

It is none other than Birdie standing behind me... but he looks Caucasian. Ah, it seems from his mind that he's a bit under the weather. Slowly, I assess him, intruding upon his thoughts to see if he offers any answers. Unfortunately, his mind is rather jumbled, perhaps it is a ploy, but I continue to search. The crudeness of the word in his mind, which seem to place me as an object to be used for pleasure, rather than think of me as a person, make me give up rather quickly at delving through his thoughts.

He speaks up, his English a bit broken and heavily accented. "Uh, yer welcome, ya know?" He says with a slight shrug. I have no time for pleasantries, and I certainly will not thank him yet.

I figure I may as well get to the point with him. After all, this is important stuff I speak which could change the future. "You are Birdie." I say, so he knows I mean business. It doesn't sound important to say those three words, but I will not disappoint, rest assured.

"Yea, what up?" He says, trying to sound cool as he flashes a smile. A smile that could use a little work. I see what they say about British smiles has some merit, though it's not too bad of a job keeping them clean. His eyes dart over my body, and as I follow them, I am aware it's not exactly clean thoughts on his mind. After all, his eyes moving in a strange arc at my curves is not exactly a coincidence, and I'd be glad if he'd stop staring at my legs.

I'm sure I can snap him out of his enjoyment of the sights easily enough. "Stay away from Shadaloo. I tell you this for your own good." I mean those words. Does Birdie even realize what he is getting himself into? Does he know what kind of dangerous power and evil that Bison can wield? I wish that I knew.

He grins, then in a loud booming jolt, he bellows almost abruptly, "Hah!" He pauses afterwards to lick his lips, "I dun do things jus ya gots a sexy face."his smile widens as his hand touches his peculiar hair. Not that I'm one to talk on such matters as strange hair, with mine being so enigmatic and all. "Gimme a reason ta, a GOOD reason, I wants." I shudder on the inside as I think I can figure out what he wants. He will not get it, but it's still creepy.

With a sigh, I reply calmly. "It's for your own benefit that I am warning you Birdie. Ou have no idea what you are getting into."

As I take a breath to explain briefly a bit of important information, he interrupts me. "Yea, look luv, save it." he grunts, uninterested. "Ya ain't changin my mind, ya dig? Just cuz yer a nice lookin chick with lovely knockers, you ain't changin my mind unless you take ya knickers off." Perhaps there is no hope for Birdie. With no patience left to deal with him, I walk off, picking up speed to avoid him. I will see him again, since we are both in the competition, and I only hope I can still get through to him, or the others.

The trek completes rather quickly at my quickened pace, and I must say that the room is filled with individuals. Some of them are those who matter. I see one in a white gi, and a face with a most neutral expression as though he is thinking about one thing, and nothing can dissuade his focus. Perhaps I will disturb him later.

Another I spot is a boxer. He is a member of Shadaloo, dressed with bandages around his arms and in a red shirt with denim jeans. I doubt I should talk to him. He is Mike Balrog, one of Shadaloo's most loyal, money hungry, and violent soldiers. I pray he does not wish to deal with me in any way.

Sagat, the host of this tournament, seems to have yet to have arrived. I know he does not work for Shadaloo, and if my tarot cards have predicted correctly, and they did, he wouldn't join them in his current state of mind. I must warn him to not give in to his rage. Sagat is a powerful man, and if working for M. Bison, could jeopardize any hopes of halting Shadaloo.

I suppose I could ask his student Adon to keep an eye on him as well, though I'm not sure Adon is all too fond of his teacher. The best I can do is lead him on the right path.

They don't disappoint, and arrive shortly after my planning. Sagat is very tall, and I'd see why Bison would want his hands on the world's best Muay Thai warrior, and surely his red haired student Adon can't be too much worse, if Bison offers a place in Shadaloo to him as well. Adon however, from what I've seen from the future, has no interest in Bison's crime organization, thankfully.

I approach Adon, figuring I'll start my warning with him. "Adon..." I say softly, addressing the red haired warrior, the second best Muay Thai warrior on the planet.

He seems agitated about something, and I can tell that his mind is troubled with a rather harsh past from my psychic prying that I did just now. I see the life of a third world Thai citizen, and the harshness it brings as I read his mind. I blink, as he grunts, and speaks in a rather unfriendly manner. "Whaddya want, woman?" I can't help but almost feel sorry for him, and almost admire his strong will to achieve.

He zones out as I continue to repeat his name to get his attention bac "Are you listening to me? I have information you may wish to know about your destiny," I say, and I notice his eyes widen with interest, "Perhaps, about how you may become the god of Muay Thai…" I trail. I feel bad for playing mind games in such a deceitful manner such as this, but I have to.

He seems to be smiling, at least on the inside, but I think he's used to bottling up emotions. His eyes remain as stern as he can keep them, but I stare into the dark pupils, and see into his soul. It's obviously a ruse to make sure he shows the world that he's tough, and not a sucker. "What's your name woman?" He says, his tone of voice betraying his facial expression.

"I will tell you later." I say. Perhaps now that I have his interest, he will be willing to speak to me, but I cannot say too much here. I fear that Balrog may be a good ear if the cash is good for it. Information is always worth a pretty lire. "Just meet me in room three forty-one." I say, even though nobody's been given their rooms at the hotel next-door, having fortune telling abilities can sometimes be harmless. "Come by at around nine o'clock." Those are my final words to him for now. Perhaps I can get a word with Sagat.

To no avail, it seems I cannot find him here. Perhaps he has gone off to be alone, and if that is the case, I will respect his want for solitude. I'm beginning to wonder if what I'm doing even matters. Do you wish you were in my shoes? Don't give me an answer based on high heels either because I know you understand what I meant by the question. Do you wish you had my mind reading and fortune telling abilities? Sometimes I do not. I wish I were ignorant, and therefore blissful. Free of care, and worry, life could be simpler.

Do you still wish you could trade lives with me? I would trade it in a heartbeat if I could, as long as you promised to fulfill your role as an agent of fate and destiny. A psychic's life is not as wonderful as you may think it is. I wish sometimes... that I was never born.

A/N: Well, this is probably the longest one yet. Man, Rose is one tough cookie to write. Let me tell you all. So there you have it, Rose's reason for participation. Primary targets of concern are Sagat, Balrog, Birdie and possibly Ryu. Next chapter is Gen's. Can a whippersnapper such as every one of you deal with sponge baths, Alzheimer disease, and stories of 'when I was your age, 'blah happened', AND WE LIKED IT! Can you handle it?

Well, you don't have to. You can deal with a kick ass assassin who's four times your age, yet four times your strength. Stay tuned, and don't forget to REVIEW!


	5. Death Claims Everyone: Gen

1Power to the reviews. I empower them, for they very greatly empower me.

Dasu - Your words are appreciated. Thanks as always, and glad the lack of 'Ryu-centric' focus doesn't disturb you.

Lyrix of Azn Ethix - I prefer the one at Gamefaqs, it's version 4.1, making it better. As such, characters who, if in this tournament, would disrupt the storyline. That Prison Camp is a retcon, sort of like much of the SF plot at times. Guile doesn't even know what the heck Shadaloo is until Alpha 3, so that's that. I digress though, and am glad to see that I'm not the only writer who uses plot guides for correctness. Of course, if you wish to lecture me on canon, then you'd know that Sagat's employment under Bison was retconned when he saved Ryu from Psycho mind controlling. It's in your story though. Don't mean to sound harsh here, but really, telling ME to read the plot guide when you should be well aware from the FAQ in World Strung By Fate, that I know the canon very clearly.

Bushinguy - Author's tend to find their OC's to be pride and joy characters. I feel that way about mine too, though I feel afraid to grow too attached. I don't want them to steal the show. Anyway, yea, I thought you knew what I mean. I don't really hate any character. Heck, I don't truly hate the shotoclones, the problem is that they're just too... EVERYWHERE! As for trying to get BD made to a manga, let me know when you succeed. I'd read it, even if it doesn't get an English version. Hey, who needs a censored translation when I can read the original right here on the net.

Anyway, break out the prune juice, and sit back. It's time for Gen, whippersnapper!

**Chapter 1 - Death Claims Everyone, Eventually (Gen)**

My mind and body grow old, yet there is still much to do. Am I tired or weary, in spite of my age? Not at all, I have never felt more alive! My name is Gen, and I am an assassin from China. Currently, I look for a warrior strong enough to possibly kill me, before Leukemia claims me first. I refuse to let that happen. I will die a warrior's death first, even if I die before I throw my first punch! Death claims everyone eventually, but it will not claim me without a fight. I'll kill the devil and the demons of hell itself if I must!

I will not go down easy. Don't think I'll let anyone just have the glory of sending me to the afterlife. I am a master Ansatsuken, better known as the Assassin's Fist. It is designed to kill its target, a fitting style for an assassin like myself. I have sent many fools to hell, and I liked it! No doubt there will be many more foes to wind up in the afterlife by my assassination techniques as well.

Yet, I'm sure you're wondering why a man like me, dressed in a ragged, and torn purple robe, could possibly be an assassin of the night who relies on the element of surprise to end your final moments once and for all. I resent that stealthy, and cowardly way. Only a weak fool relies on the shadows to defend and protect him. I on the other hand am a more honorable killler. Ansatsuken techniques are designed to target not just the body, but the soul as well. Perhaps only another master of Ansatsuken will be enough to destroy me, but I know how to protect and purge my soul of any weakness they may seek.

Ansatsuken is dangerous no matter what martial art style it is applied to. For me, it is a mix of a variety of Chinese martial arts. I have even tried to teach my arts to youngsters. One such person was a young girl named Chun-Li, whose father is a friend of mine. Yet, I have not seen him in a long time. Not since he left on a mission to investigate a drug trading crime syndicate called Shadaloo. I do hope that he is alive and well. Even an assassin is allowed to have friends, a social life, and a sidejob. If ever you are in Shanghai, stop by at Genhanten, it is my restaurant, and the food is good. I could always do with some more business at Genhanten.

There is a tournament being hosted in Thailand by a man named Sagat, who is claimed to be the best Muay Thai warrior in the world. I know for a fact that Muay Thai is a very powerful form of martial arts, perhaps this Sagat has Ansatsuken, and if he does not, then I shudder to think how strong he could be if he were to, and shed a tear of delight to the thought of the sweet embrace of death from a worthy foe.

That is where I am now. I arrived early this morning, and now await the tournament. I sit in silence, as some try to mingle and converse with one another. I am far too old to be making attachments to new friends. Besides that, the wise embrace silence, and thanks to my training, and ability to clear my mind, I have slowed the deterioration of my body and mind.

Perhaps I should not say that I am alone here. Another friend of mine, named Lee is taking part in this tournament. He is by far not up to my skill in combat, but I'm sure he won't disappoint. His twin children, Yun and Yang look up to me, and they see me as a grandfather of sorts, though we are not of the same bloodline in the least. They couldn't possibly be any older than seven, and probably are younger than that too. Still, it is nice to be respected by kids, but I think it's just because they've seen me fight that they look up to me. Kids these days just have no respect for their elders any more.

You must be thinking me rather talkative for an assassin, as untraditional of one I may be at that. I am often thinking. Thinking about what's to come in my future, in the afterlife, and beyond. Do you think me willing to jump blindly into the unknown that is the embrace of the reaper himself? I am horrified, knowing there is one certainty that can destroy any warrior, no matter how supreme they may be. Have you been so scared? We all die eventually, and I never have been so afraid in my life. Yet, I must face death eventually.

I seek only the best to end my existence, and at the same time, I am not sure whether or not I'd be glad to have one. Should I beat every worthy foe I meet, then perhaps my only solace will be knowing that I was the greatest warrior to have ever lived, and die with that sentimentality, and far more tolerance for leukemia's conquest.

As I have said, that is why I have traveled to Thailand. I am here to fight the best of the best in hopes of meeting a worthy killer. Yet, I am still uncertain whether or not to embrace the thought. Truly, only the greatest of warriors would willingly stare into the face of the abyss that awaits their defeat, and with it, their death. That is what makes me an assassin. The mere fact that I kill, even in honorable battle is what is more than enough to classify me as a killer.

Though he is not here, I know of a warrior, a man with incredible strength and skill. Most people claim that he's a demon, but I know better. Though I have yet to meet him, I know what he is. He is an Ansatsuken just like myself, yet he has applied his to a karate. It would be the most pleasing and enjoyable moment in my life to battle another who has reached a state of Ansatsuken like myself. Surely, he likely has sensed my power and strength. Even better if his thirst for battle and perfection brings him to me, then I am truly as great a warrior as I hope I get to die as.

There is one here who seems to possess a strange energy within him. It almost seems that he too has Ansatsuken in his energy, but this warrior in a white gi who I'm looking at, it is far too faint, as though it is not meant to kill. He seems very similar though to the man I seek. This warrior in a white gi seems a lot like Akuma.

I suddenly feel my blood vessels squeeze, and I can't help but wince in slight pain. This is pain from within, and even a god cannot ignore the pain from the inside of his body. Has my leukemia begun to worsen? It is only in its beginning phases, and with the harmony I have with my mind and body, I have hopefully slowed the pain and symptoms. Will it be enough though to sustain me long enough to find the best warriors on Earth before I die with the shame of failure? Will I even live long enough to finish this tournament?

Isn't death frightening? As an assassin, I know that it is the most assured thing there is, other than taxes, which as a restaurant owner, I am also very sure about being true. There is no remorse for a slain foe. It is who and what I am, and after the first few corpses, death becomes a common expectation of one such as myself. One must be able to control the power of the Assassin's Fist. The kill can become an obsession, a corruption, an addiction. I will never give in to these. Though an assassin, I know the difference between a warrior and a civilian. It is better to say that many warriors have died by my hands than to say that people have.

I am a hearty, and strong willed individual, yet all this contemplation of life and death is grating away at me. For the next few hours, it would be best for me to enter a state of mental clarity, a meditative state of ease and relaxation. When you become as old as I am, you tend to savor every blinking, breathing and existing moment you have, and time seems to ease along at a gratingly slow pace. Yet, when meditating, it almost feels like nightly slumber, and hours pass in what may seem like mere seconds. Surely enough, I awaken hours later, and more warriors are present in this small room.

None of these warriors seem too impressive. Their dedication, and lacked years of training makes them pale in comparison to myself, or so I sense.

I am hopeful though, that they are simply just adept at concealing their power. Perhaps there is a surprise in store for me, and I sometimes like surprises. If it truly is nothing, then I pity the time I waste. The precious moments of life that I have left, and I do not know just how much time I have. Death claims everyone eventually, and my time draws near.

I pray that this was not a waste of my time. A waste of my precious, limited time. If it is, then death will need to wait, even if I have to fight it fist and tooth. It will not claim me outside of a fight, unless no warrior is worthy enough to bring it upon me.

A/N: Old man Gen. Not such a kind old man, is he? You may wonder why he seems like such a rotten individual, but remember, he kills people. He's like an elderly version of Akuma, who uses Kempo instead of Karate. So, who's next? Hmm, I'm not sure, you'll all have to find out I guess. Don't forget to review, everyone! I live by your readings and reviewing! What's it take to get your attention? There will be Ryu PoV chapters sometimes, but he won't be very social. Many forget the rather antisocial, the fight is all dullard that Ryu is in the canon of things. That is the side I wish to remind you of when I write his chapter. That won't be the next chapter, but it will happen rest assured.


	6. I Live to Fight: Ryu

1Reviewer ti... Uh... WHAT THE? Empty! Nothing! There is nothing but dust, cobwebs and an uneaten bagel, and by god, I don't have the jaw strength to eat a bagel! I must do something drastic!

Oh wait, nevermind. That's just my savings bond account.

Lyrix of Azn Ethix - It's really just the same one, but with a bit more up-to-date-ness to it. It's at Gamefaqs . Com, I'd rather avoid posting links in my story though for safety and ban avoidance reasons. All in all, author is Tiamat, but the guide's version is .1 more updated than the one you mentioned. 4.1 is better than 4.0, is it not?

Well, so no need for drasticness, but I will still write my Ryu chapter, and you will finally understand MY take, a CANON, REAL take on Ryu. Not some sappy pansy who gives a rats rear end about Sakura or Chun-Li. I don't mean to insult the fans, but... when you're wandering the world and the fight is all, women tend to be inconvenient detours that take away precious years from your moldy bread IC nature. I still hope fans don't hate me for saying that. Am I a monster for being an opinionated human who disagrees with the norm, or have I sunk too low? Anyway, here we go.

**Chapter 1 - I Live to Fight (Ryu)**

Within my heart, I am a warrior. I live to fight honorable battles, and I will never back down from a challenge. My name is Ryu, and from the way you seem to be acting, you talk as though you know all about me, but these words you speak, they are so... wrong!

Hoshi? I'm sorry, but I don't have a surname. I was an orphan, raised by my master Gouken. Uh, Shotokan? You were talking about me? Well, I guess my gi does make me look like a karate master, with a fifth ranked black belt, but I do not practice Shotokan. I practice Ansatsuken, taught by my master, and adopted father, and according to him, his teachings are toned down. I'm surprised to this day that is what he claimed to be true, since the honing and focus I have been trained to achieve feel immense as is.

I have lived with Gouken all my life, and trained with my best friend from America, Ken Masters. He too practices Ansatsuken, but he's not as diligent about his practice as I am. I live for fighting. Surely, if I could never fight again, I'd simply fade out of existence. It is the only thing I live for. There is no time for a break from the action, win or lose. I will take on anyone and the honor each new opponent brings warms my heart and soul.

That is why I have come here to Thailand. I was hoping that Ken would partake as well, but he has plans in America. His plans are to partake in a martial arts tournament. He claims that he'll beat current champion, Charles, if he goes against him. I wish my friend well against this martial artist. Ken is no weakling, in spite of his ego and lavish wealth.

I however, have come to Thailand to battle all kinds of warriors. This is a street fighting tournament, and many warriors with many different fighting styles will be present, whether it's a martial art style or not. I am always eager to face new kinds of warriors and travel the world to see what great warriors there are to meet, befriend and battle honorably. As I like to say, the fight is all.

I do not fight to kill, however. I am not that severe a dedicated warrior, even if I live to fight. I do not wish to kill. Gouken once told me that 'To kill a foe is to lose a rematch.' It's a rather logical statement, and it, if you choose to believe me, is what convinced me to avoid killing. Even if Ansatsuken is the Assassin's Fist, it does not need to be used to kill people. Great warriors deserve to live, and fight more battles against other great warriors. There is no need to destroy such a wonderful thing.

I'm sure it contradicts the way of the warrior to endorse life, I give every fight my all. The fight is all, and I do not hold back. It unnerves and disappoints me when my opponent does hold back. I did, after all, seek a battle. I expect my opponent to show me the same respect I show them but giving it their all, even if it nearly kills me. I do not like when my challenger holds back.

Perhaps you are wondering what is going on here in Thailand. Thirty-two warriors from around the world are showing up for a tournament, hosted by the greatest Muay Thai warrior alive, Sagat. I have heard Muay Thai is amongst the fiercest martial arts in the world. It will be an honor to win or lose to this Sagat man, should I be able to make it to the top. Not that I doubt my abilities, but I am still training. I am training myself, even after master Gouken says there is little more to learn. I will perhaps never be done training for the best battle of my life. Suffice to say, I have yet to find my greatest rival, if you would call it, but when I do, it will be a great, honorable clash, and then I will know for sure that the fight really IS all.

Talk about something else? Why? The fight is all there is to talk about. Everything else is just idle chatter and a waste of the larynx. My friend Ken has yet to learn this, but I guess few will ever understand the deep truth in this fact, and those few are the wisest, perhaps most dedicated people alive.

As you can guess, and may or may not know, I am a rather quiet individual, though from this inner monolog, you probably would feel inclined to disagree. I am a thinker, when I am not fighting. Thinking about what my next fight may bring, and the friends I may make, and the rematches that may happen years later. I am always thinking, always thinking about the fight.

"Ey' mon! Ya be feelin' ok?" a man sitting next to me asks suddenly, and in a funny accent. His skin is dark, practically black, and he's dressed in what appears to be a pair of long red pants, with the word Maximum written on it. That's odd, I didn't know that the alphabet was written in a vertical manner, nor did I know that it was written sideways. Other than the pants, he seemed only to have padded gloves, similar to my own. He speaks again, "You be lookin' like ya be nervous. You be feelin' well?"

Nervous? I am practically never nervous, though perhaps from my neutral facial expression, it might be understandable, I suppose. I am not angry with him for his mention of my possible, yet nonexistent, nervousness. "Ah, no, I'm fine, thank you." Ugh, I hate idle chatter like this. If not talking about the fight, I have no idea what I can say, unless someone presents me a question to answer. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone to my silent thoughts."

"Ay, tha's coo' mon!" The dark skinned man replies with a smile. He sure seems like he kind of person to live a life of leisure and bliss. I do not envy or pity him for his decision of how to live his life. "See ya lata', mon." and those are the last words I hear him direct to me, before he stands up to find others in this small room to have idle chatter with.

These other warriors... these 'social' beings, could they be as dedicated to the fight as I am and live other lives at the same time? I somewhat doubt it, and even if they could, I will never, even if it could make me stronger, ever give up the fight alone, or make the fight anything less than everything worth living for.

Is there honestly more to life? Yes, there certainly is more, but I will never get to know it in his lifetime, for all I know is the fight. I don't sound very repetitive at all, do I? Besides, one must constantly be ware of the fight, or they may forget all about it and ruin their mission, which is a mission worth an one's entire lifetime, once they realize how great that truly is.

It was at about this time that a very tall man made himself known. He was clad only in a pair of shorts, and wore a patch over one of his eyes. He spoke loudly and commanding, being the host of this tournament, as he greeted the guests and told us what the plans were. Nothing important yet. The fighting unfortunately starts tomorrow, but I can wait. I am patient like that, after all. A festive banquet is to be hosted, as good to us fighters.

I don't exactly know what a banquet is, but it sounds like a festival or a party from the description Sagat mentioned. What a waste of fighting time, I say, though I have to admit, every true warrior needs to keep well fed, with a well balance diet, and get lots of fluids. One cannot survive on chi alone.

Parties... I don't understand their purpose. Were they invented to hasten the passing of time? That seems to be what they're good at, and Ken seems to mention how he always loses track of time at a god party. I on the other hand resent the wrongdoings of parties. They cause time to waste away for any held under their hypnotic grasp, and cause life to be too relaxed, and sometimes people wind up disoriented, I don't know how, yet they wind up vomiting, talking as though they have too much foam in their mouth, and wake up with pain in their head. How can one live like that? I know I could never live that way. I live to fight, is there something wrong with that?

A/N: OKAY! I need a BIGTIME influx of reviews. I MUST know how well I wrote Ryu, one of my less favorite characters in Street Fighter. Please tell me, I NEED to get feedback from all you Ryu nut job lunatics who wouldn't know why Street Fighter EX characters in a Street Fighter fic make my canon appreciative self VERY annoyed. Please, I am begging here for LOTS of feedback almost DESPERATELY. I beg you to use that review button at the bottom of the screen and not forsake me of how I write everyone's favorite shotokan... uh, I mean ANSATSUKEN warrior, though I don't know why he's so favorite, just let me know. As a Ryu despiser, I want feedback. Tell your Ryu crazy fans, and tell them to stop on by (and don't let them just read the Ryu chapter only. I'd be very angry if Birdie were to become an unimportant character to this story or something tragic like that due to popularity of Ryu.)

Anyway, next chapter one PoV is... Joe. The Cody prototype proves he's more than just a Joe average... or does he? You'll find out.


	7. I’m Average, But That’s Okay: Joe

1Glad to hear from reviewers I haven't heard from in a short while.

Maynar Namiya - That hits the nail on the head, pretty much. Ryu is a very simple, and I fear, a rather repetitive character, at least until his booked victory against Sagat is underway.

iceangelmkx - First person is actually not too difficult. If you pull off a constant persona switch like I do, it even gives an excuse to drag on a scene without actually having it seem so drawn out, and outplayed, simply due to the amount of perspectives. And as far as romances go, I'm more A Chun-Li/Charlie person, if anything for that woman, especially considering that, well... Charlie's kinda dead, FOREVER. He's still cool in my book though.

Bushinguy - Gen's one-dimensional? I think that while brooding over death, if he still has time to advertise Genhanten, then surely there's something more. I'll be careful though. As for Ryu, I'm shocked with the positivity, but don't blow a steam casket.

Anyway, time for a serious underdog. It's Joe the average American, who most consider a dull character design. Before I get started, let's give him a NON-dull move set.

**Joe** - Joe is rather average at everything, pretty much. His speed, guard bar, damage output, EVERYTHING. He's like the jack of all trades and the master of none. He does have chainable standing jabs, and a decent move pool. The biggest disadvantage Joe has is that he doesn't excel at any one area, and his other real disadvantage is that he lacks a projectile.

**Special Moves**

Power Kick - This one comes straight from the first game. Joe does a rising, horizontal kick while shouting "Power!" He then descends with his foot still extended. Its' basically his dragon punch, but it lacks vertical coverage, meaning that it's timing is far different. However, this kick is the Dragon punch type move with the most forward reach, so to use it best, make sure the enemy is grounded. Another use for it is jumping fireballs. It can go over any projectile, and descends kicking. It is a bit slow though, so don't get anti-air struck. To perform, simply do forward, down, down-forward, kick. The kick used determines jumping height, and duration. Short kick is the lowest height and duration, and can jump probably only the low tiger shot and maybe Dee Jay's thin projectile. Every other characters projectile can be jumped with the mid kick, except Sagat's higher shot, which can be taken with the roundhouse. If the target is nabbed on the way up, they will be knocked back and off their feet, and will receive a combo for a second hit coming down depending on how deep the kick has the target.

Heavy Hitter - The average American lunges with a powerful punch. Can be used three times in a row, similar to Fie Long's combo punch. Strong, and if it hits, expect a hurting, but its very slow starting up, and it does weak block and guard bar damage. Cannot be comboed off of any other moves. The first punch is a right hook with low range, the next is a left punch with greater reach, and the final ends in an uppercut. If he misses, you can easily jump over him. This is perhaps his strongest regular. To perform, it's a quarter-circle forward with the punch button, which determines how far he moves before striking, a fierce is slow, and easy to interrupt with a quick jab or even just any fast attack at all.

Underminer - Joe does a fast dash towards the opponent, and if he hits, regardless of if they block, Joe will be behind them. It does not hurt the enemy, but it can cause them to perform, say a super, in the wrong direction. Beware that you're right in their face though, so if they know to turn around (by pressing the forward key twice), they can get you while you're recovering. To perform, it's a backwards quarter-circle and the punch bunch. The button strength determines how far you dash. For the first few frames, Joe is invulnerable while dashing, but soon only an idiot won't attack thereafter.

**Super Combos**

Supreme Power - Two quartercircles forward with the kick button unleashes the Ultimate Power Kick. It strikes the same amount of times on the way up as it does on the way down. It can strike either 4, 6, or 8 (hits in total from both up and down) times depending on level used. Does good damage, but isn't too good for fireball scrub punishment.

Big Joseph - If he hits with this short ranged super jab, the enemy will instantly get struck by 8, 13, or 17 jab that happen so fast that you don't even see them. All you see is damage, and combometer pile up. The damage is great for this twice backwards quarter-circle plus punch super, but the range sucks. The extra punches occur even if blocked, but they are of course, all blocked as well, though the guardbar damage is fairly nice.

Anyway, that's all for Joe, let's get on with his side of the story, shall we?

**Chapter 1 - I'm Average, But That's Okay (Joe)**

Oh yea! I'm here in Thailand and I am PUMPED! Let me tell ya, I'm ready to kick some serious ass here! My name's Joe, and I'm American, baby! I'm pretty much your average American, and ya know what? Life rocks! I'm here in Thailand to take on some of the greatest fighters in the world, and with my street fighting skills, and street smarts straight from Chicago, I am totally pumped!

I know you're thinking I'm just your average dumb blonde American wearing red jeans who grew up fighting on the street. Am I right? Am I? Well, to that I say, talk to the hand! Ha, I'm gonna kick so much ass, why I could probably become the guy those Muay Thai host clowns will run to just to learn the ways of the average American. Imagine a guy named Joe beating a Muay Thai master, and maybe even being a Muay Thai master. Sounds kinda silly, don't it? Ah, what the hell am I doing, rambling like this?

Anyway, I don't really care if I don't come in first, but it'll be great to get in on the action, and take on some culture. I'm the only American here, after all, other than that dude Mike. I've seen Mike on TV, he was known as the Balrog back when he was a professional boxer, and he truly was a demonic force of brute strength in the arena. The problem was that he had a tendency to bite and brutalize his opponents. He ended up getting kicked out of the professional gig, and now he's here. This is so cool! I get to fight a fierce monster of a person like that!

When I talked to him, he eyed me as though he wanted to bite my head off, and snarled a bit before saying 'Beat it, kid!' Wow, I got to talk to a celebrity, and he sounded like a nice guy to boot... well sorta, he seemed to be a bit bummed about something.

Thailand thusfar hasn't been so bad, the weather here's awesome, if it were only a tropical resort, but I hear Thailand's kinda on the poor side, if I recall correctly. I'm not too sure, actually, but I think I heard that it is.

Anyway... uh, oh yea! So here I am, in this rather cramped room with about thirty people, and man is it crappy. It's like my old public school, where the classrooms were small because of overpopulation. It was better than having class in the bathroom due to extreme cramming, that's for sure.

I've been here for hours, seeing if I can find anyone to talk to, ya know, to have some fun chat, but nobody seems to be interested in idle chatter. Oh well, I'm still pretty psyched. Oh yea, man! I mean, nothin' gets your blood pumping and adrenaline flowing like fighting to near death! I know from experience, and the feeling is quite a thrill. My parents never did like the thought, but I left them about two years ago. I'm a twenty-three year old bachelor, and these are the biggest years of my dangerous, thrill seeking life!

I'm living the American dream of freedom, and I love every moment of it. I get to beat people up and there's money in the bag if I win! There ain't any pigs to arrest me while I have to suffer their rude abuse of their power and the law, and watch them eat doughnuts. Dude, seriously, policemen SUCK in the United States!

Don't get me wrong, it's a great country built by smart men, but really, do you know how people abuse it? It's not cool, man! Regardless, every country is flawed in some way, and I still am glad I live in America, compared to, uh... Antarctica. Man, Antarcticans must have a really crappy life, not only is it cold, but it's got a big ozone hole. I feel sorry for the citizens of that country... I wonder what their national flag looks like.

Holy crap, man! You're distracting me with my inner monologue. Heck, I missed Sagat's speech in it's entirety, except for the part about dinner, and tomorrow beginning the games off. This should be fun!

I'm gonna enjoy fighting, and show everyone that America is cool. I'm average, so what? I'm your average Joe, and that's strong enough to kick a ton of asses! what more could anyone want? Nothing wrong with that. I guess, well, even if I don't win, that's pretty cool too, ya know? It'

A/N: Well, that was a short, and I'll admit, weird chapter. What? C'mon! The guy's only been in one game, for cryin out loud! I'll develop his story more at his next PoV in the next chapter he's in, got it? Anyways, who's next? How about we see to Dee Jay, and enjoy the fun of powerful grass, big music, and another chapter LOADED with accentuated wordplay!


	8. Ev’ry Fight be a New Groove: Dee Jay

1Reviewers again, we're a creature of habit!

iceangelmkx - That'd be cool. The Chuck/Chun pairing is fleetingly seen at best. I'm a fan of extremely obscure pairings (basically a pairing that either a.) I'd think of it, or b.) Someone else thought of it, and it shocks me beyond belief. Then again, it needs to be a very well played and well crafted romance with some degree of chemistry that seems to work due to some odd form of love. For instance, Adon/Rose featured here works based on how they contradict each other. Adon is a loudmouth egotist while Rose is calm, collected and is into martyrdom. One thing they share is a dedication o their goals of Muay Thai legend/kill Bison, but in the end, as they say, opposites attract. Anyway, as for never seen characters, more of them will get their once in a lifetime limelight.

Anyway, it's De Jay time. Get ready to be Jamaican, and have many spelling errors which I can easily say are done purposefully to make an accent, but really, you need to picture the accentuation yourself to get it best.

Chapter 1 - Ev'ry Fight be a New Groove (Dee Jay)

'Ello, mon! I be Dee Jay, de groo-vun' kickboxin' musician. I groove wit' powa and dance de night a-way! Hey mon, is you be diggin' my beat? Oh wait, ya haven't heard my jammin' tunes yet.

Ah, wait, ya not be here to jam and jive wit de man, mon! I tink ye come to know why I be here in Thailand, in a stadium where de best fightas on da planet be gathrin for a competition. Well, wit' ma kickboxin' talents which I mix wit' my groovin' dance skills, I be known as de Southern Comet, and I makin' proud my Jamaican homeland, ya.

I neva be needin' de money maself. I send it home to me homies in me countray. My knack for da music make me jammin' all nigh' long and da people love to boo-gie! On de battlefield, I got de swingin' groove an de kickboxin' jive! Ev'ry fight be a new groove, and a new inspiration for great music, lyrics, and boo-gie!

Some people tink I be loud and craz-e, mon. No really, dey hate ma tunes cuz dey wants me quiet. Ha, does they be tinkin' dat meditation can be makin' them good warriors. Ya can't trust a mon who con't dance, ya mon, I be tellin' ya de truth... well, not all men con dance, but if dey try to get de righteous groove, den it be wort deir time to be trustworthay.

Man, de silence be so boring. De flight from Jamaica was dull wit silence. Uh, wha? What be dis ting you call an 'in-flight movie?' Dis be de Eighties, does you be tinkun' such tings exist at dis time like attachin' a movie to an airplane? Maybe years down de road dere be sometin good like dat, but no' yet. No' yet, mon!

Still, I tink de people here be needin' a good dose of hap-pay, an no, I dun have any of de grass ya be hopin for. I kinda forgots to bring it, ya dig, mon?

Well, so... dat be a lie. It just be used up really faast, mon! It's cra-zee how faast ye can go tru a whole baag'a dat stuf, and not realize you be doin' it, d'ya dig what I be sayin?

Gettin' down to da biz, I see many warria's of all different countraes, and styles. It be crazy to tink, but dey say I be CRA-ZEE, so it be good and jammin'. I dun like de silence though, it be unnervin' me mon.

Heck, dis guy sittin' to ma right be lookin' unnerved too. He must be a karate mon, or sumt'in like dat. Mayba it be good time to be talkin and makin' good conversation. "Ey mon, you okay?" I ask noticing his silence. It seems to be gettin' his attention. "You be lookin' like ya is be nervous. You be feelin' well?"

His face be confused, just a bit. "Ah no, I'm fine." he be replied, almost hesitant he did. He must be dem hermit or lona' type person, ya mon. He be seemin' to look away, "If you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone to my silent thoughts." Yep, he is be a quiet type.

"Ay, tha's coo' mon!" I reply wit' a quick nod as I stand up, and be gettin' in da mood to stop bein' so statuelike, it be so borin'! "See ya lata', mon!" I reply.

Ey, but I dun't be gettin' nowhere far, cuz den dis tall mon make de scene. He be reall'a tall! I mean wow, he be HUGE, mon, I ain't be jokin around wit'cha! He be Sagat though, a masta of Muay Thai. I hea' Muay Thai be much laik Kickboxin, it mus be a coo' way to fight. I wonda' if dis Sagat mon got any rhy'thum!

He be gotting hisself a student, he be Adon I guess, 'is success'a. Two Muay Thai be great fun now, ya mon! I be diggin' it! It be seemin' howeva, that Adon don't be diggin it much. Dat redhead mon standin in my face angrily. "You! You're a... kick boxer?" he asks angrily, and whoah mon, he be snarlin' bad. Mon, I dun tink he eva' be knowin' any dances.

"Ey mon! You be Sagat's li'l boy!" I be statin' somewhat excitedly, though I almost tink right afta'wards dat it been a big mistake, and surely enough it been, spesh'ly wit' an elbow strike to da stomach, and mon did it hurt. "Whoa mon!"

"Boy am I?" Adon hisses wit' an angr'a growl, walkin' away. "You best PRAY you don't ever have to fight me, you pathetic excuse of a Muay Thai wannabe, or else you'll SUFFER!" Afta' he be done wit' his hissin' fit, he be walkin away. Mon, dat was crazy! I be hopin' to show him my stren't so he be knowin to calm down a bit. It gonna need to wait. Sagat be sayin' dat a party happenin today, and I LOVE to par'tay! JAMMIN!

Ev'ry fight be a new groove fo' me, but dis be a chonce to have a slammin' good time and crank my beat! I be a par-tay mon, and I be livin my dream of music all de time!

A/N: It's a short one. It's Dee Jay though, what'd you expect from such an obscure character? He does have some nice plot with an angry Adon though, so stay tuned to see where that leads. Next chapter is Lee, who IS the father of Yun and Yang, and is NOT the son of Gen. Gen's just an old man and friend, but a Kung Fu father he is, and his chapter is next. As always, read and review!


	9. A Shameful Father: Lee

Reviewer Feedback, detonation in four... three... two... one...

Maynar Namiya - Yes, I'll keep on tuning in to see what new pops up. By the way, gaijin is the Japanese word for a someone who's not Japanese. It often used in context to mean a Japanese wannabe. The word is THE definition of Sodom, but the samurai of course, suffers denial.

iceangelmkx - It's not so much the contradiction that makes a good coupling, more than the lack of compatible plotline between the characters in question. Adon, if left to basic canon possibilities, would at BEST have slashfics with Sagat or Akuma. As you can see, there's a VERY good reason that this does NOT happen. Anyone who just happened to read that, I will not be held responsible for any lost lunches whih wind up all over your keyboard. Please stop yelling at me like that! All in all, the point is that stepping beyond common boundaries is often a way to grab my attention. Not to say that romance is everything, though.

Bushinguy - Yea, I know they're short. Chapters will be getting longer though, and I know I have some stuff to say for Lee here. Unrelated to your review, but some little tidbit... you might enjoy knowing a character that you like may be present in the tourney. No, it's not Guy, but you'll find out soon. You already gave him a moveset just recently, and I must say it might look tempting to use those moves.

Lyrix of Azn Ethix - You hit the nail on the head, pretty much. It IS Dee Jay's Adon battle, only three years earlier than intended, without a big mid-boss battle. Of course, there's not going to be an official battle, since as SF1, Ryu is still the big winner.

Anyway, onto Lee, the man who raised Yun and Yang. Before that though, let's give mister Kung Fu daddy a moveset rundown.

**Lee** - With Kempo and Kung Fu, Lee is not as agile as you think, focusing on, believe it or not, ticking, with a bit of ranged power for scrub friendly play. In the right hands, his grab specials and good moves may make him a dangerous foe. He even has a projectile. Just be aware that adept button mashers may be troublesome to his play style and easily beat Lee. Why exactly does he have poison in his moves? Because honing Scorpion Kempo highly enough can help one learn to focus their ki/chi into a venom that time releases its power.

Special Attacks

Fatal Sting - A basic projectile composed of ki that has been focused into a nonlethal poison. It hurts, and ticks with extra damage over a few seconds afterward that don't stop the character in any way. If blocked, there is no extra damage over time. It is weak hitting, but the damage over time adds it up to be strong. Button mashing can reduce the damage duration. To perform, it's like any other simple fireball, a QCF with punch button. It feels rather moderately temperate, but makes the enemy slightly queasy upon striking, following Lee's mastery of Scorpion Kempo. The enemy can tell when they're poisoned because they take on a slight shade of sickly green to their sprite.

Dread Latch - Lee comes with Kung Fu grip found in every specially marked package! A 360 grapple with the punch button, if Lee grabs, he will strike with attacks. Chops are landed by pressing the punch button rapidly once the grab lands, but be aware the enemy can mash buttons to escape. With the Fatal Sting in action, you can rack up some scary damage.

Foot Pincer - Lee stands on his hands and lunges his feet, and latches them together like an insect pincer. If it hits, it will sting badly, and deal a minor poison effect to add more damage. Again, the poison is avoided if the enemy blocks, and if a poison effect is in place from Fatal Sting, the damage is avoided. It's a HCB with the kick. The strength of the kick determines the startup delay, and the power packed in the move.

**Super Combos**

Lethal Venom Blitz - It looks a bit like Gen's signature super, with Lee rushing the enemy to start a powerful, damaging combo if hit and unblocked. In this case, he strikes for somewhat lower damage, and deals a very strong poison that more than makes up for it later. When the poison gets to its fullest potential, it is the most damaging super EVER, but remember, a foe who mashes the buttons can make it deal pitifully low damage. A good way to keep them from mashing is to strike them. While under the stun effect of attacks or being comboed or grabbed, an enemy's mashing is focused on reducing that damage, and the poison is free to do it's dastardly deed. To perform, the move is a bit complex. First hold down-back, then press forward, down-back, back and punch to perform. The strength of the punch is the super's level. The move does 4 hits every time, but the higher level of super used, the stronger each hit is, as well, the strength of the poison that goes with it is faster and stronger.

Doom Grip - 2 half circle forwards with the kick unleashes a souped up foot pincer. This one is actually a grapple, and cannot be blocked. It doesn't poison, but it deals very nice damage, striking the foe with a Frankensteiner of sorts. Level 1 is 5 hits, level 2 is 7, and level 3 is 10. It is strong, and est of all, it's not a 360.

ON WITH THE SHOW!

**Chapter 1 - A Shameful Father (Lee)**

I must ask myself again why I decided to take part in this tournament, as I have done several times already within the last week. I must ask myself yet again why I ever decided to make deals with the Chinese Mafia, or why I've ever decided to deal with underworld tournament fighting to begin with, and why I have agreed to an assured death. I must ask myself why I am such an embarrassment to my own family, and wonder why I am such a shameful father to my son.

It is best to start with what you likely don't understand. My name is Lee... well, actually, Lee is my last name, but please, call me Lee, just because. Though they are truly not my sons by blood, I raise my twin nephews, Yun and Yang alone, after the sad fate of their true parents, and their shameful lack of will to raise their sons. I cannot believe my own brother would abandon his children, and I am glad to say I have not seen him since that event. It took but one fight, and he and his wife abandoned their children. When I heard about it, I have raised them, and by that right, I am their adopted father.

Though I am their uncle, I have raised them as though they were truly my sons, and I must say that I love them dearly. It is a shame that my time grows close to an end as I wait here to partake in this tournament in Thailand. I may be skilled in Chinese Kempo and Kung Fu, I am sure to lose, for I know a superior warrior who also partakes in this fight. His name is Gen, and though he is old, he is very strong. It is after all the elderly who are to be revered in Chinese tradition, and Gen is both wise and powerful. He is not my father, or the twin's grandfather, but he is my friend, and his restaurant, Genhanten, makes great meals.

Gen is an assassin, and his style of fighting suits it. Ansatsuken, which is a Japanese term, means the assassin's fist, and it is designed to kill. He is sick though, and seeking someone to kill him in battle, but won't hold back in any way. If only there was a cure for leukemia. In short, he has the skills to defeat me in combat, and does not know of my dilemma. I would not want him to know of my problem anyway.

I made a deal with the mafia that I would win this tournament, and have hoped it would get them off of my back for good if I gave them part of my prize money. It was a desperate decision, and now I regret to say that my life is likely now drawing to an end because of it. Still, I must try, for I am still a powerful master of Scorpion Kempo. It is a very unique style of fighting that relies on the toxics that my ki can be manipulated to form. From there, it is unleashed in whatever way I wish to make the enemy feel sick.

You must think me strong for having such an ability such as this, but I am not. The venom is temporary at best, and is very driven of my own energy. I will still give it my all, and hope my time has not run out. Gen knows I am here, and I will not let him know of the likely death I am to receive. I do not wish to worry my friend, and ruin his chances of finding the best warriors on the planet. It is rude to disrespect your elders, by Chinese tradition.

I worry less about myself though, than I do about the children. Yun and Yang are both less than ten years old. Truly they could never manage to take care of themselves. Perhaps I will have Gen teach them a bit of his Ansatsuken so they can fend for themselves without any family to take care of them. They seem more interested in his art than that of their own uncle. To be honest, I would be too if I were them, and would have taken up Gen's ways of the assassin in a heartbeat had I a chance to live my life all over again.

This tournament... this deathtrap I have gotten myself into is truly the last anyone will ever see of me. It is here in Thailand that I now meditate, and contemplate on my life decisions, and in a way, I take great solace in a few factors. Many only get an instant to let their life flash before their eyes, but I have perhaps a year at most, and a month at the very least. The mafia will find me, that is certain, and if I run away, then they'll take it out on the two that matter most to me. I will not let them take the life from those two children, no matter what! They will be safe if I comply and except my execution, I know that for certain. I tremble as I think now, but I will be the good father that my brother never was, and that I never got to be.

I too almost had a son of my own. It was around twenty years ago that my wonderful, and beautiful wife bore a daughter, and died in the process. My heart shattered slightly that day when she died, and I promised myself I would raise the girl better than any father ever could. Fate would only be such a cruel bastard however, and it turned out that my daughter was doomed to die from incurable sickness. I never even had a chance to know my daughter for more than five weeks. Do you know the pain that I feel? Do you know what it's like to outlive your children and watch them helplessly as they lay lifeless before your feet? I assure you, it is worse than any form of physical pain that anyone can think of.

If only I was a better father to her... no! I cannot dwell on these painful memories forever! I promised I'd raise the twins my younger brother abandoned better than I could my own child.

Perhaps you are wondering why I decided to follow through with illegal dealings in the Chinese underworld. That much I will not say, but I will say that I was originally entering this tournament to make some money. It was not in my foresight to even realize that Gen would enter as well, even though I should have known better. My fate grew worse from there.

The Chinese Mafia caught word of this. They said that if I forked over my winnings, they would leave me alone for good, but if I did not win, then they would end my pathetic existence. I almost agree that my existence is as pathetic as they claim. Only two children prevent me from ending my life of my own accord. That's right! I've considered suicide before. What do you think of that? Pity? I don't need your pity... it will never bring anyone back... it will never undo the pain.

I am in my forties, and my life is nearing its end. It is a double edged sword though. On the one hand, I will rejoin my family in the afterlife. My father will hopefully be proud, and I cannot wait to see how much my daughter has grown, and I would love nothing more than to wrap my arms around my wife once more. If death truly leads to this great beyond, then a hug from my wife will make it all worth it

But still, I do not want to abandon Yun and Yang. Do I need to explain the reason behind wanting to live any further yet again? I hope Yun and Yang are not watching this tournament. If they are, then I will only embarrass them greatly with defeat...

My contemplation is interrupted as a large man makes the scene. With a patch over his right eye, and a red haired warior dressed very similarly standing to his left, these must be the tournament masters, Sagat, and his student, Adon. I already know it will not be my honor to battle them, for only the winner of tournament's thirty-two competitors may partake. I pray that Gen is as great as he seems, so I can ask him to loan me his winnings. Perhaps then I may continue to live and redeem myself from a life of dealing with criminals, and raise my children... my wonderful adopted children, to adulthood.

Gen has been feeling sick lately, and in spite of his great harmony between mind, spirit, and body, he is not invincible. He cannot purge his body of leukemia, and I don't think he wants to. I think he sees the leukemia as a challenge worthy of a true warrior. An incapacitation that will only make him strive even harder, and make every victory, and challenge overcome that much more gratifying. I actually understand that frame of thought. It seems that we shall meet in the afterlife soon.

I begin to think what I should do with my remaining time on this plane of existence. This land of the living... before my nearly assured death. I have no need for a will. I have few possessions, and I know not where to send my adopted nephews. I do know that I will spend much of my time with my sons, so that they may know that I am truly a great father. Is there anything greater than innocence of a child? I cannot seem to come up with any answer.

I just hope they remember me for what I am, their father, adopted I may be, but still their father. I want to live in their memories, in spite of what I may be in life. A shameful father, with hopes for his son's futures.

A/N: Well, for a guy with very little story, I think I worked some magic here, no? Up next is Balrog, who pursues the great American dream... cold hard cash! As always, read and review, and my motivation rises exponentially.


	10. Money Rules the World, Bitch: Balrog

1Hmm, reviewers... let's see.

Dasu - Well now! Welcome back, dude! Glad to see you're well and still reviewing me, ha! Yea, I thrive on characterization above all else, even above the importance of plot line. It's just the way I feel. If a character has a believable personality, then you can do anything with it and your imagination. Uh, well, or something like that.

iceangelmkx - As far as I care, these two are practically one in the same. Thusly, it's Mike Balrog here. I've kinda been hinting at it in earlier chapters by naming him Mike Balrog, as many others tend to. but we'll leave it as Balrog most of the time, just because it'll get confusing. Yes, so Mike should be Bison's name, but that's only in Japan. I love continuity disarray.

bushinguy - Interesting fact. Not too sure how vital it truly is at this point, but perhaps when battle comes. As you've seen, I've taken some interesting directions when it comes to good guys dealing with their problems.

And... that's all? What a bummer, I was hoping for more readers. What a shame.

Anyway, it's time for Balrog, a demon in the ring, and a dollar in the bag every time, bitch! Get ready to gape in awe at Balrog's stupidity with simple numbers.

**Chapter 1 - Money Rules the World, Bitch (Balrog)**

Eh? Who are you, and why the hell are you disturbing me, bitch? You want to get clocked by the mighty Mike Balrog, though god help you if you call me Mike, and there's no salvation if you call me Michael! I don't do autographs, punk. I don't got no time for 'em, and I ain't had too many fans since they kicked me from professional boxing, for killing my foe. Goddamn them! They didn't even give me my cash prize... and I'm sure the trophy would have sold nicely at least if they gave it to me.

Ah, you shocked? Yes bitch, you're look at the heavyweight boxing champion, the Balrog, cuz I'm a demon in the boxing ring, and give my opponents HELL! I LIKED my job, beating the shit out of scrawny shmucks and getting PAID to do so. They should make it easier on themselves and just fork up the cash and not waste my time getting my gloves covered in blood.

That's why I'm not bringing my gloves with me today. Cleaning the goddamn blood out is a waste of MY time, when I could be out making money or getting drunk and laid! If I get money, I could get people to do ANYTHING for me, cuz money rules the world, bitch!

Good thing Bison's base isn't too far from the tournament here in Thailand. Do you know how much it costs for an international call? Well, okay, I don't, but I hear it's not cheap, ya dig? If Bison has to pay a steep phone bill, surely my fee could be affected, can it? CAN IT? I'm sweating up and getting angry about this possible loss of pay.

Anyway, yer a real pain in the ass, ya know that? Why the hell am I telling you anything about me. If I tell you too much, I may have to kill you in a brutal, painfully slow manner... SIT DOWN NOW AND LISTEN UP! Yea, that's right, listen up. I'm striking my clenched right fist against my open left hand, eager to hurt something. You're just lucky there are some real challenges awaiting me in this tournament today... well, MAYBE. What can I say, I got a powerful punch, and it makes me the cash I need to live, and I need more

Bison sent me here to fight, because he wants part of these winnings from this warrior tournament to help fund his drug trade. I guess he made the best choice for who to send. What do you expect, huh bitch? Do you think he'll send that stupid vain spick, Vega? You probably don't know much about any of this, but Vega is the vainest pest I've ever seen! Besides that, Bison needed him to help him kidnap some preteen girls. The weirdo agreed to help without much regret. Jesus Christ, I like women as much as the next straight man, but C'MON! I wanna stay away from jail as much as possible. Can't he wait like... uh, hmm. I'm taking a minute to think here, cuz I suck ass when it comes to numbers. Let's see, if these bitches are thirteen, like Cammy, then they should be legal in... ah, they'll be eighteen and fully legal in six years. Whew, I got that one right without a calculator AND in under a minute, progress every day!

Yes, I like the women. Bitches, shorties, call em what'cha want, they're all the same, no shittin' ya, all women are pretty much the same. I know what they want, and by god, mother fucker, I'm willing to use it. What? Yea, it's big... what did you expect? I'm a rough nigga who grew up in the ghettos of Michigan. It's fuckin' important to have a big one, but women care more about the money in my pockets instead of that being in my pocket. As we can see, the system is like a soap opera or some shit like that: I like money, women like money, and I like women. Can you imagine? If only they'd make a series about something like THAT on broadcast television, it is a goddamn good plot!

There don't seem to be too many women here. I can only counts four or six here, uh, if I have my numbers correct, that is. The purple haired one looks familiar... nah, can't be that bitch. For one thing, she'd NEVER braid her hair into a ponytail. Eh, I think I'll just stick to quota and fuck up a few losers.

Anyway, I'm here in this tournament hosted by some pirate wannabe named Sagat because Bison wants me to see if I can recruit some good warriors and keep my eye on the winner... not that I won't try to win. That cash will make my life complete, bitch! I need the bling bling to get the shorties, and I'm gonna kick the asses of morons who think they had a chance! Man, I love my job. I gotta repeat myself here. I kick the shit out of a dumb ass, and earn the Benjamins for doing so, YEA! And stupid bitches say that the system don't work... it works fine for me!

I'm used to the heat of the Thai summers by now, having spent some time as one of Bison's elite muscle. Hell, in spite of being an evil bastard, I gotta say he ain't such a loser. Bison's got style, attitude, and is pretty cool... in short, he has a huge checkbook, and he better keep it big or I'm gonna be pissed!

I hear that the tournament master, Sagat is pretty diesel, yo! I mean, he's fucking seven and a half feet tall! That's right, he's ninety-one inches tall, and he's got a lot of muscle too, even if he is a pirate wannabe by wearing that eye patch. Compared to him, I stand only six foot five, which, as you know is only eighty-three inches tall... I wonder what this Sagat nigga looks like in person.

He also has a scrawny student named Adon, who's supposedly just a runt. I'll beat em both with their kick boxing crap. Heh, if there's one thing those idiots don't know, it's that attacking with your feet while boxing is a BAD idea. I got fists that can beat any stupid kick any day, and my feet hold their ground nicely. In a way, by bracing myself, my feet are like a defensive aspect, simply because they're so balanced or something and don't trip up very easily. Anyone who thinks they can strike with a low sweep to stop me is gonna regret it. How they do so is none of your goddamn business, but I guess you'll maybe find out when I fight.

So here I am, glaring at many different fighters from around the planet. I wonder which loser gets the shit beaten out of him by me first... I'm almost anxious to find out, but... holy shit! There's that Sagat guy walking into this room, or cramped dump as I see it. He's as tall as the claims say, and man is he RIPPED with muscle. This guy's gonna be fun to have bleed. He's gonna regret fighting the Balrog.

Bah! The loser's talking. What's this? Free banquet. FREE? As in the word spelled F R E E E, that spells FREE! Jesus fucking Christ, the most wonderful word in the American language has just been spoken! YEA! Hell yeah!

Too bad the I can't start turning people into blood puddles until tomorrow, but I like the thought of getting free room, board and meal. As they say, the best things in life are free! It's true, and you wanna know why, loser? Well, I told ya once before, but because you're a stupid bitch, I'll say it a third time, money rules the world!

It was then that I noticed the likes of a man dressed in a green... uh, something or other. Ya know, one of them things a kung-fu or karate putz would wear. This man approached me and with a slight clearing of his throat, he spoke in a funny accent. Damned freaks! Why can't everyone learn to speak perfect English, like me! I gots great grim... uh, grime... uh, I spell good!

"Mr. Balrog, may I have a moment of your time?" he spoke in a rather calm tone. He sounds scared, and damned straight, he should be!

I decide to respond, but only because I know there's a free meal headed my way. Well, actually, much of the food is free all day, but that's not important now. "Eh? Whadda ya want, scrawny? If you want my time, then pay me well, cuz time's money, ya stupid bitch!"

He formed a stern gaze, and man I almost shuddered for some reason. Maybe he's a medukum and can turn me to stone or something... I don't fucking know! Anyways, he doesn't seem disheartened. "I am not thrilled to offer cash, but from what I've learned of you, I know you'll want some." he replies calmly, as he holds out something... it sure as hell don't look like any dollar or coin I know of. "Do you mind if I pay in Yen? When converted to a currency you know better, I'm sure you'll find it sufficient for your time."

I snarl at him, but he's not intimidated in the least. The motherfucker doesn't even flinch! "I hate when people try and rip me off with moneys I don't know!" I whine, but don't you dare think me a wuss or crybaby. I'd punch this jerk's jaw out of alignment if it didn't get me in trouble or maybe even disqualified. I gotta keep my eye on the prize, but a little more never hurts. "You better know just how much that is in American currency, or you'll need every... uh, whatever your lowest unit of cash is, for dentist surgery."

Damn bitch seems to know when he'd better speak or get hurt, at the very least,"Thirty thousand dollars, or thereabout if my calculations are correct." Well... Thirty thousand is pretty sweet! That's like... a quarter of a million dollars!

"Whaddya wanna talk about?" I snarl at him. Something about his calmness and his standing near me freakin' creeps me out.

"Shadaloo." Is all he says. Peh, no big de... HOLY SHIT! I'm screaming on the inside and holding my rage back from punching out his innards with a punch to the JAW.

"You... wait, what the fuck do you know about Shadaloo." I demand... and thank god that nobody seems to be paying attention. Eh, not that anyone knows shit about it anyway, right? I mean, it's a goddamned SECRET organization, and Bison's bribed away government and army interventions from many powerful nations such as the United States. I notice maybe a few stares, but nobody seems to give a crap. Well, maybe that big, ugly dork with a mohawk and that purple haired girl seemed to give a confused glance, but nobody else seems to give a crap, and they'd best not, if they know what's good for them! "Wait, HOW do you know about us, first off."

His voice is quiet as he speaks, "I realize how secret you want this to remain, so we'll speak of it later, Balrog." He calmly moves my hands from the edges of his green karateman uniform. "My name is Zeku, by the way."

"I don't CARE about your name, and don't tell me your life's story, or you'll find it end right here." I threaten him. The sight of this Zeku freak makes me sick enough, but he might be a bit less sickening with a shiner on his eye.

I'm now in a grumpy mood, and well... I'll probably remain that way until dinner. Now get outta my face, ya little pussy before ya don't got no face to get rid of, understood?

A/N: Mike Balrog is such a lovely fellow, isn't he? So calm, so polite, so selfless... FEEL the sarcasm pour from my mouth like a raging monsoon drips (or rather, drenches with) water, and maybe even that's not sarcastic enough. Either way, we're under way here. Who's next? Well, ya know, I may not write EVERY character. It's a lot of persona switches, and not every character will be in every chapter, though more important characters to the plot such as Adon, Sagat, Rose, and MAYBE Ryu will be there often. I'm starting to see why Capcom reuses their characters... designing new ones can be trifling if done too often. I need to fill thirty-four slots and I don't want cannon fodder characters who serve no purpose but to lose, and so far I have just nineteen. I have much work ahead of me... Bring on the challenge!


	11. Upon the Shadow of My Victim: Geki

As always, reviewers get the spotlight.

iceangelmkx - Whistler? No, I'm not even going to ask who or why, and no, not nine more to go. Just nine more to go until I find myself out of brain juice for new characters. I really would hate to have cannon fodder characters who do nothing but lose. That'd be wrong.

bushinguy - Just because I disappear for two weeks doesn't mean you need to worry about a lack of one reviewer. You're trying to hold on to perhaps not the most competent or efficient of reviewers, or more bluntly, a lazy reviewer with little enthusiasm to do so.

Now, on to the next character of chapter one, Geki, the original clawed ninja.

**Geki** - Using Geki means you want to play a game of agility and swiftness. He is well endowed with many useful abilities, as well as a swift, long jump (and wall jump) and even a ranged attack. He does have Vega problems however, and can lose his claw. His claw empowers his punches moreso than provide range, though his reach is slightly reduced from the loss if it occurs.

Shuriken - Basic ranged projectile usable on the ground or when airborne. Used with a backwards quartercircle and the punch button. It is quick, and fires quickly too, but it's damage is only so-so, and it can deflected with just a simple jab.

Ninja Vanish - Geki's teleport spell. Works like most any other teleport spell, really. Backwards or forwards Dragonpunch motion plus all 3 kick or punch buttons. It's a basic teleport, and it's best to learn when you'll need which distance and direction.

Backlash - With a semicircle backwards and the kick button, Geki dives to the wall behind the enemy and lunges at them. The kick used determines power and recovery time on a missed backlash.

**Super Combos**

Jutsu - A small bauble of sorts is thrown near or far from Geki and then bursts into flames, covering that area of the screen. With two quarter-circles forward and punch, it is thrown in front of Geki, and with kick, it is thrown further. Levels do nothing to determine power as the move engulfs and does four hits of combo, but the reach and damage do increase.

Assassinate - This move causes Geki to run at his foe with his claw ready. If he strikes him, he will instantly appear behind them and stab them in the back, dealing some good damage. Done with two quarter-circles backwards and the punch button. Each level increase how quickly Geki lunges, and the damage his single attack does.

**Chapter 1 - Upon the Shadow of My Victim (Geki)**

Fear can keep anyone in check, and under control. It has quelled the rebelling of nations before they can even begin, and it is enough to provide this fleetingly balanced planet from all-out war. Without fear, people truly aren't willing to live too long, but as it stands, fearless people are amongst my most dangerous enemies.

I am a man of the shadows. You will never know I am there, but you will be frightened as you look over your shoulder in every which direction until you find the source of your discomfort, only to find that your own shadow was hiding the terror all along, until it is too late. You may wonder what this has to do with fear, and I'll tell you honestly, very little. To scare a man to death won't kill him, and even the bravest of men can die just as easily as a coward. As such, there is no problem killing a brave man at all.

That however is not always a situation I am able to handle. I am an assassin, and I stalk my prey in the deep of night, but not always am I fortunate enough to get such an easy task. Sometimes I do not get the fortune of a single foe, and surely enough, when the first strike is made, it is easy to know that there is someone there, stalking and haunting your shadow. I hide upon the shadow of my victim, but even the shadows lose their black, protective shroud in due time as light fills the darkness.

I am not a threat without the darkness to protect me, and truth be known, I am not as powerful in hand to hand combat as you might think. That is why I wear a claw on my hand, to hold my distance and hope for it to rend flesh in every strike I never wish to take. I am a ninja, if you must know, and though I am without honor, I am not without fears, or flaws. My name is Geki, if it truly matters to you.

That is why I have come to Thailand, where I am sure I can find many warriors without fear. I must take this challenge upon myself, and overcome fear. I must master the emotion itself in order to become the perfect ninja. It will not be easy, and I do not intend to emerge victorious against all my foes, but as the, there are many lessons learned in defeat, and none learned when victorious. I anticipate defeat, as I am not in my environment of the darkness.

You are probably wondering about what a ninja truly is, and to answer your questions, I will tell you quite honestly to take everything you think you know about the ninja ways and cast your false beliefs away. A ninja is not a godly warrior with unmatched wit, agility and magic, or anything else that television media may feed you. We are men, and sometimes women just like you. What defines a ninja is their use of the fighting style known as ninjitsu, which is definitely favoring of the agile and the quick, is simply another form of martial arts, just like karate. Ninjas are not heroes or high ranking commanders. Having grown up in a shinobi background, I know many secrets that I will not share with you, but know that ninjas existed in feudal Japan, and are often the shadowy men who are void of the honor which Japan is so notably recognized for. That 'honor' is true rubbish. If there was 'honor', then there would never have been the feudal wars that plagued Japan for centuries. There would have never been the need for anyone to take up the specialties that a ninja excels at.

I knew you were going to ask, so listen up, as I tell you just once what a ninja truly does. A ninja does the duties of an honorless man, from scouting the enemies of his hiring lord, to terrorism, and obviously assassination.

Wait, why do I care what you think? Go back to thinking that ninjas are flying, master martial artists who use swords and can't be beaten. If that is what you want, then what I want is for you to get out of my sight for making fun of my lineage, and heritage.

So, you're still here? Goodཀ I'm glad that not everyone likes to stereotype my kind by the false lie told by your cinematic dictatorships. I begin to wonder if even the Japanese themselves truly do understand what ninjitsu is, and hope that my own country has not forgotten the truth about the life of a ninja. If you still think ninjas are heroes, I can perhaps understand your strange misconception. It's probably that you've heard of Bushin, and while it technically is ninjitsu, I can't honestly say I respect it.

Even amongst those who partake, it seems one such warrior is a Bushin. Perhaps he is not someone I can respect. Or, maybe he is. I don't quite know yet until I meet him, so I cannot honestly call him a friend or foe. They are foolish to partake in such honorbound paths, for there is supposed to be no honor amongst thieves. A ninja is a thief at his simplest, for ninjitsu is an art of stealth and agility.

You may think this is a close minded way of thought, but I assure you, I am always willing to learn to understand other ideals and cultures, but what I say about the art of ninjitsu has been this way for hundreds of years. My great grandfather was a ninja, and his great grandfather, and his great grandfather as well.

I feel though that I am digressing just a bit too much. Besides, my bushin 'friend' is here. I am curious to understand what his views on his teachings may be. I don my purple hood, for I am not ashamed to be a ninja here at this tournament, and would rather my face remain unknown, at least for now.

"Konichiwa," I greet him, as we both stand outside the doorway to the arena where it will all begin. The man is wearing green, and unsurprisingly, he does not seek to hide his persona. Perhaps, as a Bushin ninja, he is not a hunted or loathed man.

He eyes me, perhaps cautiously, but I am not sure. A ninja is a deceptive man, and I am not sure I can trust any impressions or words at face value. "Hello." he replies, his tone dry and calm. Though I may sound mistaken, he certainly doesn't sound much like the heroic man I'd associate with Bushin. Regardless of that, I am not to let myself fall for a stereotype in any way, shape, or form. "You are a ninja, so I see. I wish you good luck if you are here to fight."

He seems awful uninterested. "Indeed." I reply in a silent tone, "I guess there is little to discuss bushin warrior."

His eyes widen ever slightly, but I can spot the widening easily with my honed vision, vision honed for not only the dark, but for perception as well. "You almost insult me with such a term," he replies with discontent and shame, surprisingly. Perhaps he is fallen from grace, perhaps he is simply trying to keep a low profile... I do not know for sure, but I will not try and figure it out directly. No, that is not the way of a nightly stalker like myself. Perhaps if I find it worth my time, I will inquire later.

My father used to tell me that the eyes were a gateway to the soul, but that the soul was deceitful and filled with concealing darkness. I still believe those words, and hope father knows that I still follow his wise words. I am no fool, I know my human limitations.

To be honest, I have no qualms with any ninja clans, even Bushin clans. I am here to fight, and that is all. Thus, I await, and will remain on 'business', and shall do what a ninja does best: Remain silent, yet deadly. Wait, what does flatulence have to do with anything?

That is where a huge, bald man with an eye patch made the scene and started to welcome us in a commanding voice. I presume that he is Sagat, the man in charge of this endeavor. Just looking around this room filled with warriors lets me know I'm in for quite a challenge, and I'm actually glad. I wouldn't want things too easy, and I must conquer in the brightness of the day. The weather forecast predicted there would be much sunlight, if not partly cloudy for the next week or so. Thus, I don't have much shading to fall back on at all.

Sagat speaks of how tomorrow begins the big event. I will be as ready as I can for it, and must make my first attack count. I am at a disadvantage in open, fair combat of that sort, and killing is a disqualification based on the rules that have been set by the man in charge. In short, this isn't exactly my usual line of work. Excellent!

Do you know what this spherical item in my hand is? It's called a smoke bomb, and makes itself useful for quick escapes. It is important to run away when you are a ninja and are facing certain doom. Regardless, I'm sure a few of these will come in handy for a sneak attack as well. I cannot ever be too careful, can I? After all, even if I must learn to overcome my disadvantages and my heritage, I am still a ninja, and I will always live upon the shadow of my victims.

A/N: Well, it's another chapter done. So, tell your friends about this story, tell them to tell their friends, and tell them to review as well. I'm not writing for my health. In fact, I could be out there exercising, the way I practically never do so anyways, so give me a reason to remain writing and not o sluggish at it. Next chapter is... well, it's a surprise really.


	12. I’ll Be Important Someday: Retu

1And we are a creature of habit, and reviews go first.

Bushinguy - I like history and the likes of even its most mundane. I tell ya what though. You finish your next chapters already, and I'll give you your next review.

Lyrix of Azn Ethix - Balrog's just fun like that.

Saturnstales - Well, a new reviewer. Glad you're enjoying your read, but I don't see how Sagat being a nice guy is odd. He's not a mean person unless someone really angers him in some way.

At this rate, I'm gonna need to lower the number to 18 instead of 34. I know I'm nearly halving the total, but as I said, it's rough to work with that many characters. Therefore, where you remember the word thirtytwo, consider it to be sixteen instead, got it? Good! I'll be editing the numbers very soon. Even with my Birthday in just a few days, I still get no peace of mind at the age of twenty.

Now, on to Retu (not to be confused with Retsu, because if you do, you're going to ruin the joke later on.) For those of you who don't know, Retu is the big, pink haired, kabuki final boss of Final Fight Two who gets knocked out of a window, ala Belgar. He's Japanese, and since we all know that Sodom loves Japan and was ruling Mad Gear at the time, Retu was an obvious choice. This however, is a time before Mad Gear went global, and Retu is not yet a member. He's just a thug Kabuki warrior for now.

**Retu** - Retu is a big guy in this game/story. He's the third tallest, after Birdie and Sagat, meaning he has quite the reach, but means he's a large target. Retu has a few nifty tricks up his sleeve and has some nice moves, but his regular attacks and movement speed are a bit on the slow side.

Spinner Kick - Retu balances himself on one leg, and lunges forward with his other leg spinning wildly. You may remember this one directly from the game, and you'd be correct that it is. It looks like a Hurricane Kick, except that it doesn't leave the ground. To perform, it's performed the same way as a Hurricane Kick, backwards quarter-circle and kick, but it acts a bit more like a Lariat, in that there are enough invincibility frames to dodge a fireball. Depending on which kick you use, there are a few differences. The Light Kick is a swift lunge with a few spins of the foot. The med kick lasts longer but is stronger and hits twice, and the roundhouse even has a bit of a hope to it, and lasts even longer. This move is usable in the air.

Spectrum Bolt - A spectacle of multicolored lightning, every Kabuki needs prismatic spectacles. Anyway, this simple, electrical orb is a charge move. It's back to forward with the punch. The strength of the punch determines projectile speed. Using Kick instead will send the projectile on a zig-zag pattern of a path, and again, kick strength determines the speed. This move will cause electrocution, much like Blanka's electricity does.

Fancy Switch - This move zooms Retu to the edge of the screen in a swirling loop of special effects. To perform, it's a backwards Dragon Punch motion and all 3 punches or all 3 kicks. Punches send him to the left side, and kicks send him to the right side. An escape move, and confusion as well, but don't rely on it too much.

Stun Light - A ranged projectile that does next to nothing for damage, but makes the enemy dizzy if it connects. While dizzied from this, Retu cannot perform super combos. The move is slow, and can be nullified with even a simple jab. To perform, it's a forward quarter-circle and the punch button.

**Super Combos**

Slicer Kick - A souped up version of the Spinner Kick. Deals lots of damage and hits 6, 7, or 9 times, depending on which level of super used. To perform, it's two quarter circles backwards and the Kick button.

Searing Light - A burning light beam that strikes Four times. Deals decent, easy to pull off damage, and if it strikes, it will always strike four times. This move can be angled by the joystick, and looks like a spotlight is forming in Retu's hand. If blocked, it deals next to no damage. The level used determines the power. This move cannot be reflected, since it is not true fireball of sorts. To perform, two forwards quarter-circles and the punch button of your choice.

**Chapter 1 - I'll Be Important Someday** **(Retu)**

Huh? Who's there? Why do I hear the quiet, snickering of laughter? Are you laughing at me? It seems you are. Does my pink hair make you laugh? Do you laugh at every genetic defect like that? Maybe these muscles will make you consider that laughing to your death is a painful way to go.

Good! It's easy to shut you yippies up when you see that I'm tall, and muscular enough to hurt many, many people. I must say, causing pain is tons of fun. Maybe you need to get to know me a bit better. My name is Retu, and I'm from Japan. I commit crime, and enjoy causing lots of pain. I'm a performance artist, which is natural for me, since I'm a kabuki performer.

Sounds like I'm living the good life, right? Eh, well, not exactly. See, I'm just a thug for now. I don't let it get me down though, because I know damn well that soon enough I'll be noticed for my greatness as a performer, and a force to be reckoned with. Maybe the Yakusa, the Japanese mafia, will notice me. After all, how many genetically pink haired males do you find in Japan? What? No, they don't commit suicide if they're not gay. That's a tradition that died with the samurai.

Well, I have time to wait. After all, it's not like I'm going to fall out a window and go crashing to my death, or something else just as fatal, right? Why are you so silent all of a sudden?

It is my thirst for fame and recognition that has drawn me here to Thailand. Here, I will compete in a contest. A street fighting competition, and the host of this, Sagat, is said to be very tall, perhaps he is even taller than me. That doesn't matter to me, I will take him on, and I will win.

Perhaps, someone will realize that the kabuki art is a serious form, and is worthy of attention, or more to the point, that I am worthy of attention. Besides, I have some good moves, strong punches, and I'm not an idiot, if you couldn't tell. I just had a bad run with society and college. Now I'm just trying to get by, and get back at those who have it better than I do.

Sure, they say it was partying that ruined my college career, but I know that is not it. That can't be the reason. I was going for my doctorate in physics, and on the side, I was taking up performing arts as well. Well, actually, the whole problem was a misunderstanding that just got too far out of hand.

I was close to graduation, when a few kids were out late at night, and I just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. One of the kids asked me to hold something for him. It was a knife, and apparently, they had committed murder. Guess who took the blame for their crime. Sure, the forensics proved my innocence, but it was too late by then. There was no way I could get my degree, and I was expelled from the university before the real criminals were found. I gave up rather quickly on trying hard.

I was young, and had a low self-esteem. Even now, more than ten years later, I still haven't the bravery (or the money) to try again. In fact, I gave up hope to the point that I figured crime was the only way, but I wouldn't let the sin claim my soul completely. I held on to my desire to be a kabuki performer, and so I am. I must say though, I feel no better off now than I did then.

Don't think all is lost for me. If I win this, I will use the money to help fund college. I will finish what I started and get my doctorate. There are never enough scientists, after all.

I sigh to all this though. It's just a dream, and wishful thinking. Maybe I need to just grow up already and realize my lot in life is just a thug. I'd still give up the crime in an instant if I could find a steady job that I enjoyed, even if it had crappy pay. I want to find my lot in life.

I wonder what a starving artist does to get attention and recognition. We artists are more than just simple people. We are deep, and thought provokers, and perform our art to express ourselves. That is why I commit my crimes. They are not the average crime, either. They are masterpieces of intrigue, mayhem, and mystery. And, on top of all that, a bit of scientific knowledge can go a long ways to prevent forensic detection of DNA or fingerprints.

I am still awaiting recognition for my work, but for now, the satisfaction of being a mysterious criminal on television is a slight satisfaction. I am not even wanted without a face to identify, and with this pink hair, I am thankful for my enigmatic stance with the law. I hope to end all of this soon. With the victory money, I will have enough to live in peace, and continue to learn and study, rather than commit crimes to get by.

Hmm, but this room is packed with warriors of all sorts, but I look to be the tallest here... well, except for that black guy with the blonde hair. It doesn't matter. They can't stop the power of a good education applied to battle tactics. I am, after all, no idiot.

I guess I'm in for quite a treat here. A bunch of battles and lots of time to display my artistic, kabuki tactics. There's about twenty people here from my count.

Something has caught my eye now. Bald head, tall, an eyepatch... there is no doubt that this man is Sagat. I will do my best, and perform to my greatest in this daring escapade set before me. Dare I challenge myself too much though? I have no idea, but I hope for the best.

As Sagat talks, he explains that which is going to happen today. Well, nothing's happening today, except free dinner. That's not bad though. Nobody says no to free dinner.

I... well, I guess I'll do my best. After all, I'm here to fight a good fight, and will do my best to end this cycle of mundane crime. I do not exactly hate it, but it is not the most wonderful way to make a good name for myself in a world bent on stopping criminals.

For now, I'm just a grunt, and a nobody. I tell you though, I'll be important someday. When that happens, I will finally feel that I have found my place, and my niche in the world.

**A/N**: Whew! I'm working with a character who's more shrouded than GEKI, but I like to think I pulled off something believable, or so I hope I did. Did I? That's why I need you, the readers to answer that for me. Remember, if you want to know more about Retu, just play Final Fight 2. He's that big guy with pink hair at the very end of the game!


End file.
